We Can Work It Out
by NazgulQueen13
Summary: Eliza’s an outspoken American, Darcy’s a blueblood British lawyer. Eliza’s prejudiced to think that her opinion is the only one worth having, Darcy’s pride causes him to be ill suited to recommend himself to Americans. Can hate turn to love? Perhaps...
1. The Ladies of Bennet

Summary: Eliza's an outspoken activist at NYU; Darcy's a British law student. Eliza's prejudiced to think her opinion is the only one worth having; Darcy's pride causes him to be ill suited to recommend himself to Americans. Hate turns to love as our favorite characters get a modern twist… plot may or may not follow Austen's that closely.

Chapter One – _The Ladies of Bennet_

It is widely assumed that a young woman, leaving the age of hormonal teenage lust and entering the pre-marriage age, is in want of a man. For the Bennet ladies, this was no falsehood, but perhaps with one small alteration: the man in question should preferably be rich.

Not all the Bennet girls were quite so shallow as to make this their first demand of a potential beau; indeed, the two eldest, Jane and Elizabeth, had never been inclined to be the social-climbers their mother wished them to be. Mrs. Bennet had been a Long Island housewife ever since she had married her husband, an attorney in New York City who made a very respectable income but chose not to engage in the many social offerings his job offered. Not a day went by that Mrs. Bennet did not exclaim in an overemotional voice how much she wished she had married someone with a bit more ambition. Mr. Bennet barely listened to a word his vapid wife ever said, and so the marriage rattled on; deep down, their children assumed, they loved each other. Mrs. Bennet had been a beauty in her day, and her personality allowed her to be content with a life of constant complaining and trivial gossip. Mr. Bennet worked all the time, although he would stop now and then during dinner conversations to put in a good word for his beloved Eliza.

Jane, the eldest of their five daughters, a wonderfully good and kind young lady of twenty-five, was a social worker in Brooklyn. Never had a job been more perfectly suited for someone. Jane, with her sunny blonde hair, porcelain complexion, and sparkling blue eyes, was so pretty and innately good that even the toughest of people she had to deal with often melted under her smile.

Not quite the same could be said about Eliza. While very pretty, Eliza paled next to Jane's beauty, and she found it very hard to be as kind to everyone as Jane was. Eliza often found fault in nearly everyone she met, as she held very high standards in what she thought constituted a good person. Often where people fell short was their disagreement with her opinion; however, she could always be counted on to listen to you respectfully _before_ she told you why and how horribly you were wrong. Taking more after her father, Eliza had thick, espresso brown hair, a straight, somewhat long nose, an easy, sparkling smile, and rather uninteresting hazel eyes. She was to be a senior at New York University in the autumn, where she was involved in many activities like the recycling program, a fair trade organization, and the university's students' civil rights board. Both Jane and Eliza still lived at home; Jane, because being a social worker didn't exactly pay enough for rent in Manhattan, and Eliza because going to NYU was at least a little cheaper if they didn't have to pay for room and board.

It was quite a hot day at the end of June, when as all the girls were sitting in the living room, either reading or just trying to stay awake in the thick heat, their mother came running in, not a bead of sweat on her face.

"Mr. Bennet!" she cried; it was an odd habit of hers to call her husband "Mr. Bennet," but she knew it annoyed him. "Mr. Bennet, I insist you come in here this moment!"

Eliza rolled her eyes noticeably, knowing her father absolutely hated being brought away from his work. Surprisingly, though, he appeared in the doorway, looking irritated and sweaty.

"Why is this confounded air conditioning not working?" he said at once. "I can't work in this horrible heat!"

Mrs. Bennet ignored him, and continued with an air of upmost excitement.

"The Lucases have just told me the most wonderful news! Guess what it is!"

When no one even batted an eyelash, she sighed and continued.

"The mansion on Netherfield beach has just been leased! And guess who has leased it!"

"I did not leave my desk to play guessing games, Fanny!" Mr. Bennet said warningly.

"Alright, alright. Charles Bingley!" she pronounced with great expectation.

This proclamation had no effect whatsoever on the others. Mrs. Bennet looked disappointed for a moment, but then plowed on.

"Mrs. Lucas has told me that he is a very, very wealthy businessman and guess what?" But one look at her husband, and Mrs. Bennet did not wait for an answer. "He's only twenty-seven! Twenty-seven, did you hear me, Mr. Bennet?"

"I heard you quite well, Mrs. Bennet. At first I had no inclination to feel anything but mild surprise that someone actually rented that rusty old dump, but now I feel much relieved that it was a foolish boy of … what did you say, dear?... twenty-seven, and not someone with a little more sense."

"But Mr. Bennet, you must go and see him first thing, _before_ the Lucases get their hands on him. Charlotte's nice enough, but rather homely don't you agree?"

"Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Bennet, by bringing up Charlotte Lucas? What does she have to do with Mr. Bingley's arrival?" Mr. Bennet inquired, though he already knew the answer.

"We can't have Charlotte Lucas taking Mr. Bingley! He must have one of our girls!" cried Mrs. Bennet.

"Hey, Mom, in case you couldn't tell, we're right here. And we're not slabs of meat to be betrothed to any rich guy who happens to walk by," Eliza said, the heat making her irritated.

"Speak for yourself, Lizzie. I know _I _wouldn't mind marrying a hot rich guy," the second youngest, Lydia, said. She was a lot like their mother: flighty and prone to gossip.

"One out of three marriages end in divorce, Lydia. It's a fact," the middle girl, Mary, scoffed at her sister. Mary was a complete bookworm who until now had had her nose buried in Tolstoy.

"Only cranky old spinsters end their marriages. I bet _you'll_ get divorced, Mary," Lydia said with sneer.

"Girls!" Mrs. Bennet finally cried. "Can we please get back to our original subject? Mr. Bennet must visit Bingley so that we can make a good impression on him! Don't you care at all for my poor nerves? What will I do when your father is gone, and five poor, single daughters that can't look after me?"

"If we're finished…" Mr. Bennet said, turning back into his office.

"We most certainly are not!" Mrs. Bennet cried, but the door had shut behind him.

"Oh! My poor heart," Mrs. Bennet sighed, slumping into a chair. "Will I never feel the joy of seeing a daughter walk down the aisle, and handed to off to a well-suited gentleman? Oh!"

Cate and Lydia, the two youngest and Mrs. Bennet's favorite daughters, hurried over and began to assure her that they would do everything in their power to marry rich (and hot) men. But seeing as they were only fifteen and sixteen, Mrs. Bennet was but little relieved.

A few days later, Jane and Eliza had finally risked the beach after several scorching days had driven them inside. Jane was slathered in SPF 50 sunscreen from head to toe so that her porcelain skin wouldn't fry up like a tomato. Eliza was simply wearing a sundress that covered her shoulders, but not her upperarms, as she, too, tended to burn. They were just walking by the mansion that had caused such uproar in the whole neighborhood for the past week when they noticed that the entire front yard was swarming with people scuttling every which way. It seemed the infamous Mr. Bingley was finally moving in.

"Let's get a better look," Eliza said with a smile, and they casually strolled along the walkway a couple yards from the edge of the property that led back to the street. All sorts of furniture were being hauled out of five different trucks and being carried into the very grand white mansion; a man stood on the front porch apparently directing everyone around.

"That must be him," Jane whispered quite unnecessarily. Eliza squinted her eyes in the hopes of getting a better look, but it was no use. He was too far away, and constantly being obscured by big, muscular moving men. She shrugged to Jane and they went back home, eager to tell their family of what they'd seen.

That night at dinner, Eliza was finding it very hard to concentrate on her steak, due to the fact that every few seconds, her mother would let out an almighty moan and somehow comment on Bingley and his arrival.

"He'll think it so rude that we didn't introduce ourselves! We have the second largest home in the entire neighborhood, and we don't even introduce ourselves! A fancy man like that, he's bound to think us complete boors!"

There was silence, except for Cate and Lydia's murmurs of agreement.

"And now Charlotte Lucas will get him! Such a plain, uninteresting girl. She cannot possibly be a match for him! He must be so handsome!"

"He's an absolute dreamboat," Mr. Bennet suddenly cut in.

Eliza snorted into her couscous; Jane burst into giggles; the rest of the family was staring, awestruck, at Mr. Bennet.

"Blonde hair, blue eyes… a very handsome match for Jane, I daresay," he said with a wink to his eldest.

"How did you come by this information?" Mrs. Bennet trilled. "I thought-"

"I took the liberty of paying a little visit to Bingley, to tell him he has the entire female population of the neighborhood absolutely giddy, and to ask him to please put an end to it as soon as possible."

"Oh Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "What a wonderful father you have, girls! Were you there before Lucas?" she added.

"I was the first person of the neighborhood he ever saw, Mrs. Bennet."

"How wonderful!" The rest of the girls were also pleased with their father; Eliza secretly did think it would have been rather rude not to at least have said hello, but had known her father would do it. She happily finished her dinner, blocking out her mother's high-pitched squeals of excitement.

"I am rather excited to meet him, Lizzie," Jane was saying later, when they had regained the sanctity of their room.

"It won't be long. The Lucases are having one of their soirees on Saturday, Charlotte told me," Eliza answered, reaching over and turning on her stereo.

"It'll be nice to have a new face around here," Jane mused.

"A new, _handsome_ face, eh?" Eliza said with a cheeky smile.

"Eliza, I am not Lydia. I don't like people just for their looks!"

"But it sure does help," Eliza shot back, her smile getting broader every second.

Jane giggled, trying to reach over and turn down Eliza's music.

"Hey! You do _not_ turn down the Zeppelin. Just because you listen to crappy soft rock, does not mean I will suffer the same fate," Eliza said, slapping Jane's hand away.

Jane rolled her eyes. "It's adult contemporary music, Lizzie."

Eliza faked puking over the side of her bed. Jane laughed, sitting up in her bed.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to marry someone wealthy," Jane said, surprising her sister greatly. Eliza sat up too, wanting to say something witty and offensive, but knew her sister spoke the truth.

"Putting five girls through college has got to make a dent in Dad and Mom's retirement money. It would be nice to be able to help them out," Jane went on.

While Mr. Bennet's job paid a respectable income, it had already been stretched very thin paying for the girls' prep school and Jane and Eliza's college tuitions. Jane's job paid very little indeed; Eliza, who was majoring in anthropology, knew she had a slim chance of getting a good job unless she went to grad school.

"Well, then, you'll just have to look your hottest on Saturday, won't you?" Eliza said with a smile.

"Oh! What should I wear?"

And although both sisters were professional, smart young women, this question was enough to send them off talking about clothes throughout the night.


	2. The Extraordinary Party

Chapter 2 – The _Extraordinary_ Party

Deciding every girl needed a brand new outfit for the Lucas' party, Mrs. Bennet had taken the girls into the city to shop at a most inconvenient time; when they returned, they were told by Mr. Bennet that they had just missed Bingley, who was politely returning Mr. Bennet's visit, and had been hoping to meet the famous Bennet sisters. The disappointment this caused in most of the girls was enough as to make dinner a most unpleasant affair.

The rest of the week passed with much excitement in the air; rumors were flying that Bingley was expecting as many as twelve visitors to stay with him, but according to Mrs. Lucas, only four visitors were expected by Friday.

On Saturday, _the_ Saturday, Eliza was still sleeping soundly at 10:00 when her mother came bursting into her room, screeching at the top of her lungs.

"Eliza! How can you still be sleeping? You have to get ready! Wake up, you silly girl! Wake up!"

Eliza groaned and opened her eyes. Jane's bed was already tidily made, with her dress for the evening laid gently across. Eliza shook her head to get the last of her sleepiness out of her; rubbing her eyes, she sat up.

"Alright, I'm up! Lord, woman," Eliza muttered under her breath, getting irritated at her mother's constant shrills. Did she really need seven hours to get ready? The party didn't start until five.

She got out of bed and shushed her mother from the room. Her mother, noticing Cate had a zit on her forehead, thankfully began directing her screeches elsewhere. Eliza padded downstairs and into the kitchen, needing to find some breakfast.

"Ah, there you are, Lizzie."

Eliza turned around and saw Jane coming in through the back door, sopping wet and drying herself off with a towel.

"I thought I'd take a dip in the pool," Jane explained.

"To get away from Mom?" Eliza asked with a smile.

"No!" Jane immediately said, but then smiled as well. "Of course."

Eliza chuckled and began making some coffee. Jane chatted excitedly about the party, wondering what the visitors would wear.

"I head he has two women with him… and that they're extr_eme_ly wealthy," Jane said eagerly. "They must be so elegant," she added dreamily.

"Yeah, or complete snobs," Eliza said. Past experiences with extr_eme_ly wealthy people had done nothing but prove to her that they were all snobbish and haughty.

"Lizzie, not every rich person in the world is a snob," Jane said.

Eliza made a disbelieving _pff_ and began buttering her bagel. She let Jane talk on as she ate, happy that her sister was so naïve, but also not wanting her to get her hopes up. Jane dealt with the poor every day, whereas Eliza often dealt with the rich when she had internships and research projects.

"Alright, I'm going to the basement to do my yoga. Whatever you do, do _not _tell Mom where I am," Eliza said to her sister a half hour later.

Jane made a cross over her heart and winked. Eliza smiled and hurried downstairs to the basement. _Ah, finally, _she thought, _some peace and quiet. _This was more like it… this party, this one stupid party, was driving her crazy. They went to a million like it all summer, but just because this one had some snooty people coming, suddenly they had to bend over backwards to please them. _Well, _Eliza thought, _if they don't like us the way we are, they can just stay in their fancy-shmancy mansion and leave us alone. _Although, she thought with a pain, anyone liking her mother the way she was might be a small miracle. She prayed her mother would not make too much of a fool of herself. She knew the party would probably be a bit below what the visitors were used to, but she hated to give them a reason to go home to their grand mansion and make fun of them all night.

She was having a rather successful yoga session – nice and quiet – but suddenly she heard the familiar screeching at the top of the stairs.

"Eliiiiiiiiiza! I know you're down there! Get up here this moment! You'll get sweaty – it'll ruin your complexion! Get up here!"

Eliza let her leg down out of the tree pose and muttered "_Namaste, namaste_," under her breath, trying to regain her calm. She then took a deep breath, rolled up her mat, and went upstairs.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was complete madness. While Mr. Bennet stayed in the safety of his office, Eliza and the other girls were shunted from station to station like cattle. First, she was given an allotted time to shower; this was nothing new – with five girls, they had had to schedule their showers for years. Then she was told to change into easy clothes – "_Not your dress!_" – and then she sat for a half hour waiting for Jane to finish with the hair dryer and curling iron. Jane was getting the most attention, as Mrs. Bennet assumed Bingley would notice and fall in the love with her all in one night. Then Eliza made quick of blowing her hair out straight and then lightly curled – seeing as that was how she wore her hair most of the time anyway, Eliza was perfectly happy. Then came some more waiting time; Eliza pulled out a book she was supposed to be reading before she went back to school, but her mother began shrieking that she would muss her hair sitting on the window seat. She and Jane chatted about nothing in particular while the younger girls showered and did their hair. Then came makeup and skin – Eliza needed a lot of lotion, owing to the fact that her skin was slightly peeling. It was nicely tanned, not sunburnt, but her mother was absolutely distraught.

"You look like a tomato!" she cried.

Finally they were allowed to put their dresses on in their own rooms. Jane looked absolutely stunning in a satin strapless, light blue dress. Eliza felt positively ugly standing next to her in a rose colored, low v-neck, knee-length dress.

"Remind me not to stand next to you all evening," she said with a fake pout. "You make anyone look hideous by comparison."

Jane laughed. "Nonsense, Lizzie. You look fabulous."

Eliza shrugged, not especially caring either way. She put on her shoes as Mrs. Bennet burst into the room, herself dressed in a surprisingly tasteful black dress, yelling that they would be late. They followed her downstairs, only to find that the driver wasn't even there yet. Mr. Bennet came out of his office for a brief moment to tell his Lizzie that she looked wonderful, and to remind Jane that "falling in love is like fishing… you don't keep every single one you reel in." He then went back into his office; Eliza was very jealous of the peaceful evening he was about to enjoy.

The Lucas' lived a mere five blocks away, in a beautiful fifteen-room mansion right on the beach, but Mrs. Bennet had insisted that they get a driver to take them. And as she always loved to appear fashionably late, the driver pulled up to the house at five after five, and the ladies all piled in to the stylish black Cadillac. They arrived at the Lucas' a scant five minutes later, but the large backyard (well, back_beach_) and deck were already swarming with guests. One look around and the girls knew that Bingley and his visitors hadn't arrived yet; no one looked excited enough.

Eliza immediately went over to her friend Charlotte, who, despite Mrs. Bennet's claims, wasn't homely at all. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept up into a sort of twist, and she wore a lovely green dress that complimented her eyes. After exchanging the obligatory "You look wonderful!", they got down to business.

"So, when are they coming?" Eliza asked.

Charlotte shrugged. "All I know is that they said they were definitely coming. Perhaps they like to be _very_ fashionably late."

"What's he like? Bingley, I mean," Eliza went on.

"Dad said he was very charming and modest. And _very_ handsome," she added with a gleeful smile.

"Who are his visitors?"

"The two women are his sisters," Charlotte said, "thank _God, _and one of their husbands. And the other guy is some friend, I don't really know who," she said with a shrug.

Before Eliza could ask another question, the entire party had suddenly broken out in whispers. The music sounded very loud all of a sudden, and it seemed all the guests had become frozen.

"Oh, Eliza, look!" Charlotte whispered, pointing to the porch.

Standing at the top of the steps stood a group of five people, none of whom seemed at all self-conscious of being stared and pointed at. In the middle stood a lanky young man with wildly curly blonde hair and a wide, easy smile. It had to be Bingley – and they were right, he was adorably cute. To his left stood a tall, skinny woman with dark hair and pale skin, and a shorter, slightly stouter woman with blonde hair. The second woman was clutching onto a chubby man only a little taller than her, with very little hair left and noticeable stubble. The two women were dressed very finely in undoubtedly designer dresses; in fact, they seemed a bit overdressed. To Bingley's right stood a taller, almost unnaturally straight-backed man who was, and there was no other word for it, very, _very_ handsome. Not hot, but handsome. He had darker, curly hair and a chiseled, brooding face. Nonetheless, Eliza wasn't interested, for he looked positively condescending and quite unhappy to be there.

"Bingley, so glad you could come!" came a booming voice that made everyone jump out of their stupor. Mr. Lucas was striding toward the party with a broad smile on his face. Bingley smiled even wider and cordially shook Mr. Lucas' hand, while everyone else pretended to go back to normal. Eliza could see Bingley introducing his friends to Mr. Lucas, who seemed awed but delighted. The tall man never smiled, but bowed his head slightly when he was introduced.

"That other man is sooo gorgeous!" Charlotte exclaimed.

"I know! I _love_ balding, porky men!" Eliza said seriously, pretending to make dreamy eyes at the shorter man.

Charlotte slapped her on the arm, but laughed. Jane joined them a second later, and it was obvious that she was very pleased with Mr. Bingley.

"Look at him, Lizzie! Isn't he lovely?" she said.

"Dum dum di dum, dum dum di dum," Eliza started humming the wedding tune.

"Lizzie! I haven't even met him!" Jane said, but she couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't long before Mrs. Bennet was beckoning them over to meet Mr. Bingley… _Charles_ Bingley, as a matter of fact. And sure enough, it wasn't long before Charles had asked Jane to dance.

* * *

William Darcy hated parties. All and any parties. He hated making meaningless chitchat with utter strangers; or in this case, listening to these boring people gossip about their equally boring neighbors. William detested gossip. It implied caring about someone else's affairs, and William had never cared for anyone's affairs besides his own family's. 

Charles, of course, was bouncing about the large group of people, introducing himself with a large smile on his face. He and Charles had been roommates at Oxford, and now went to Columbia for graduate study together. When Charles had told him he was going to lease Netherfield for the summer, he had been most against it. Long Island? William would have much preferred the Hamptons, at least, or Martha's Vineyard. He especially would have preferred going home to England for the summer, or perhaps to France. But Charles had been set on the house ever since he saw it, and William had to accompany him, else poor Charles would be stuck with his sisters all summer.

The younger people had begun to dance, leaving the older adults to return to the house for wine and cheese. William finally descended from the porch to make himself a martini. Charles, he noticed, was already dancing with a very beautiful girl with blonde hair. William sighed and shook his head; no doubt Charles would fall madly in love (or lust) and William would have to save him yet again. No one in this entire neighborhood could be good enough for Charles, who was set to inherit his father's fortune to the tune of several million dollars. William himself had already inherited his family fortune; his father had died four years earlier, naturally leaving William their entire historic estate plus his law firm. His monetary inheritance was quite a bit higher than Charles', but he highly doubted that any of the people at this party made even a quarter of Charles' sum.

"Oh, thank you Will! You're such a dear." William's martini was suddenly taken from his hand by Caroline Bingley, Charles' younger sister and the bane of William's existence. She sipped his martini while he sighed and made another.

"Can you believe these people, Will? Honestly, what was Charles thinking? I've never met more uninteresting people in my life, have you?" she began.

"No, never," he said automatically. It was better to just say what she wanted to hear.

"Although I will admit the eldest Miss Bennet, Jane, that girl whom Charles is dancing with? She's a dear, very sweet… but I've told Charles to be very careful. Can you imagine him with a girl like that?" Caroline continued, cackling.

"Would you care to dance?" he finally asked, knowing she wouldn't be quiet until he asked, and a smile spread over her face.

"I thought you'd never ask!" she said happily.

He led her to the makeshift dance floor, where a rather awful slow song had come on, but Caroline latched herself to him and began to sway. William hated dancing, but even waltzing was far better than this.

"Ugh, I refuse to dance to this crap. Doesn't anyone listen to _good_ music anymore?"

A voice beside him cut through his thoughts. He looked sideways to see a girl about his age walking through the crowd, followed by a young man she had presumably been dancing with.

"You don't mind if I dance with someone else, then?" the boy said as they paused near William.

"Go ahead," the girl said. "Call me back when they play some Dylan." He hurried off as she tried to continue making her way through, but Caroline was in the way. She had dark brown, slightly curly hair, tanned skin, and was wearing a pink-ish satin dress. She was nothing extraordinary, and his beliefs about the lack of anything interesting at the party were confirmed. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Do you mind?" she asked, irritated, gesturing to Caroline. He looked at her coldly – her manners were appalling – but moved Caroline to the side to let her pass. She stalked off, but Caroline, who had taken William's sudden movement to mean he wanted to be closer, wrapped her arms even more tightly around his neck so that she was practically hugging him. William groaned and prayed that the party would be over soon.

Later, Caroline had thankfully finally given up on William and was dancing with someone else. He stood in the corner by a bench, trying to restrain himself from having another martini. He had never been drunk, nor had any intention of getting so.

"Will, this is embarrassing," Bingley said, coming up to him looking flushed and happy. "You absolutely must dance. You've been standing by yourself all night."

"I'm sorry if dancing to Britney Spears doesn't exactly suit me," William replied.

Charles chuckled slightly.

"Besides, you've got the only decent-looking girl in the place," William went on.

"She's an angel, isn't she?" Bingley mused, practically gushing. "But look, there's one of her sisters. She's very pretty."

William turned to the bench to see the girl from earlier, the one in the pink dress, sitting alone sipping a drink. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to Charles.

"She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not enough to tempt me to dance to anything that involves a synthesizer."

Charles rolled his eyes at his friend, but Jane was smiling at him and beckoning him to come back.

"Suit yourself, Will," he said, and hurried back to the dance floor. Will sighed; they did look like they were having fun, but such generic amusement had never interested him. He had far too much pride in himself to stoop so low.

Suddenly, the girl on the bench stood up and walked right past him to stand with another girl a few feet away. He followed her with his eyes; perhaps she _was_ sort of pretty, but really, he had been right before: she wasn't anything extraordinary.

But just few moments later, something extraordinary did happen. At first, all he heard was a laugh: a musical but very human laugh. To his great surprise, his stomach flipped, and he couldn't help but look in the direction of the laughter. It was the girl, the girl in the pink dress; a broad, beautiful smile was spread over her face, and subconsciously he thought he had been mad earlier to think her not pretty. She was beautiful… but just as quickly, he snapped out of it. He shook his head and looked at his drink suspiciously; how strong _was_ this vodka? He'd had far too much to drink, and he immediately put the drink down and moved a bit farther away from the girl in the pink dress. Her laughter still carried over to him, though, and although every inch of him was screaming to move still further away, he moved back, closer to her. Her laughter had suddenly stopped though, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could move away…

"But Charlotte, there are other options. If people in Africa are being slaughtered by their own kin, which they _are_, we need to do something! Politics should have nothing to do with it! It's about basic human decency."

_Finally!_ William thought. _Some logical conversation!_ The girl in the pink dress was arguing with her blonde friend, and was also clearly winning. William smiled, and edged just a bit closer. He liked her voice – smooth and clear – but he liked the way she argued even better. It was clear she was a very opinionated woman.

Unfortunately for William, though, Caroline chose this time to leech onto him yet again. Almost immediately, she began rattling off the various inadequacies of the party and its guests. The girl and her friend had suddenly dropped their voices to a whisper, but he strained hard to hear what they were saying.

"Who cares if he's hot, Charlotte? He's rich and a huge-ass snob," the girl said with a disgusted noise, and then laughed again as they walked away.

The insult brought William back to Earth. The girl had absolutely no sense of propriety… to insult someone without even knowing them! _These Americans_, he thought, and breathed a sigh of relief that he could never, nor _would_ ever for that matter, marry an American.

The thing was that Will Darcy had long ago given up any desire to actually have a real romantic relationship with a woman. His job was going to be too demanding, and come to think of it, the job of tending to the great estate of Pemberley would be too demanding for just any woman. Yes, Anne would do fine… Anne Lundi was one of his aunt's many protégés, and he knew his aunt had been teaching her to do just that: be Will's wife.

Thankfully, the party ended not long after that, but even after he woke up the next morning completely sober as usual, William was troubled to find he still couldn't get Elizabeth Bennet's laughter out of his head for a long, long time.

* * *

"She is _alright_, I suppose, but _certainly_ not enough to tempt _me_," Eliza was saying with great dramatic effect to Charlotte. Charlotte was giggling uncontrollably as Eliza related what had just happened. She was still a little stung, but making fun of the extraordinarily haughty Darcy was making everything much better. She had finally given up on hearing any _actual_ good music, and had sat down to have a drink. There she was, innocently sitting on the bench, when she heard Charles' voice behind her encouraging his friend to dance. Careful to not look around at them, she heard Darcy (she had been told his name by Charles when he introduced himself – _William_ Darcy) reply in a cold voice, 

"I'm sorry if dancing to Britney Spears doesn't exactly suit me."

Eliza chuckled a little at that, for the thought of the tall, poised Darcy dancing to Britney Spears was nothing short of amusing. He had then gone on to comment that Charles had secured the only "decent-looking" girl in the place, which she took for a back-handed compliment to Jane. She then was very happy to hear Charles gush over how pretty Jane was, but then heard him say,

"But look, there's one of her sisters. She's very pretty."

She snorted a little; although she knew Charles was complimenting her, she hardly expected Darcy to do the same. Sure enough, he answered,

"She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not enough to tempt me to dance to anything that involves a synthesizer."

She had almost laughed aloud at his rudeness and snobbery, but checked herself. When Charles gave up and walked back to Jane, Eliza saw Charlotte standing by herself a few feet away, and immediately stood up, walked right past Darcy without so much as a glance to him, and proceeded to tell Charlotte her story, complete with British accents and facial imitations.

Eliza had to laugh at Charlotte's childish giggles, and she finally sneaked a glance at Darcy. To her surprise, his eyes were fixed on her; she narrowed her eyes, assuming him to be eavesdropping, and turned back to Charlotte, hastily changing the subject. Soon they were in an argument over one thing or another… Eliza impatiently listened to Charlotte's clearly wrong opinion (after all, her father worked for a big oil company), and then launched into her own. She was surprised yet again when, as she was taking a breath to continue, she noticed Darcy standing very close to them. _What is with this guy?_ she wondered, but just then Bingley's sister had come over and immediately began talking his ear off. She almost felt sorry for him; Caroline Bingley seemed like a horribly tedious woman.

Charlotte had noticed Darcy and Miss Bingley as well, and dreamily whispered to Eliza, "But he's so gorgeous, Eliza."

"Who cares if he's hot, Charlotte? He's rich and a huge-ass snob," she said. She motioned for Charlotte to leave them, and they walked away toward the dance floor.

While Charlotte began to dance, however, Eliza couldn't help but keep looking over at Darcy and Miss Bingley. It was obvious Miss Bingley was desperate for his attention… _Good, _she thought, _they deserve each other._ He had been nothing but rude and haughty to everyone all evening, and it was soon obvious that although everyone had been quite taken with him (and his money) at first, the general feeling now toward him was one of very immense dislike. Nor did many people care for the Bingley sisters… it seemed Charles was the only one who was universally liked.

Eliza suddenly realized that she was standing in the middle of the dance floor – not dancing. She shook her head to get rid of all thoughts relating to a certain tall stranger, and began to dance. It wasn't too long, however, before the party was ending; the visitors were the first to leave, and after that, no one had any real interest in staying.

As Eliza walked to the door, bidding goodbye to Charlotte, she couldn't help but think that it had at least been a very interesting party… now all she had to do was brace herself for her family's thoughts of the matter.

_Lord, help me._


	3. The Honorable Mr Collins

Chapter Three – _The Honorable Mr. Collins_

"Oh, Lizzie, he wants to throw a 4th of July party, isn't that sweet of him?"

A scant two days after the Lucas' party, Bingley had asked Jane to dinner and a play, and it hadn't been long before they were practically tied at the hip. After several days of barely seeing her love-struck sister, Eliza had finally gotten Jane all to herself for a few hours… but as fools in love are wont to do, Jane hadn't stopped talking about him all afternoon while they sat on the beach.

"How ironic!" Eliza said, turning onto her stomach. "An honorable Englishman wants to celebrate the day his country lost an extremely valuable asset in the most humiliating way possible! ... He really must be in love with you, Jane."

Jane blushed under her enormous sun hat. "He hasn't said anything of the sort. We're taking it slow."

"Otherwise known as the 'I'm saving myself for marriage' path. Oh, Jane… I really hope he's as good as you say. I'd hate to see you heartbroken," Eliza said cautiously. Her sister was still in the giddy, lovey-dovey stages of the relationship, and Eliza was torn between jealousy and fear that her innocent sister might get hurt. Jane had never been in a serious relationship before, and Eliza knew a rich, family money young man like Bingley was probably expected to be with an equally rich, family money young woman; although the idea was disgustingly out-dated, Eliza could tell from the high-and-mighty Mr. Darcy's behavior toward Jane in the few times they'd passed by that he wasn't pleased with the situation. Neither were Bingley's sisters, although they absolutely poured sugary compliments all over Jane as if she were a cute little puppy. Eliza was a bit more observant to their snide glances than poor Jane was, and she hated them for it, no matter what Jane said.

"Oh, Lizzie, stop worrying so much. And it wouldn't kill you to be a bit nicer to his sisters. They're very lovely when you get to know them," Jane said with a pout.

"Tuh, I can barely stomach them as it is… but I _suppose_ I could be a bit more civil… for _your_ sake only, Jane," Eliza said pointedly.

"And William isn't all that bad, either," Jane said hopefully.

"William?" Eliza asked.

"Darcy! I know you still don't like because of what happened at the Lucas', but you haven't really met him! You always ignore him when he walks by, but he's really not all _that_ terrible," Jane trailed off, as if still trying to convince even herself.

"Tuh!" Eliza said again. She groaned into her towel… _Darcy_… blech. For a few days after the Lucas' party, her story had spread like wildfire, and everyone, even her father, had been proclaiming their extreme dislike for the young man. She had received more pity glances than she could endure; Eliza hated being pitied, because it implied she was vulnerable. He hadn't upset her as much as everyone assumed he had… in fact, she _had _thought the whole thing rather hilarious, but now she was even sick of his name.

"Eliza, _please_? He's Charles' best friend!" Jane pleaded.

"_Why_, though? Why on Earth are they friends?" Eliza asked for the millionth time.

"I've _told _you, Charles trusts him above anyone! They were roommates and Charles said they got very close."

"_How_ close?" Eliza said with a cheeky smile and a wink. "Eh?"

Despite herself, Jane giggled. "Lizzie!"

"Why did they even have to live in a dorm room? Couldn't they have just bought the whole building?" Eliza said bitterly. She knew she was upsetting Jane, and hated herself for it, but Bingley had been monopolizing her sister's time ever since he moved in. She barely saw Jane anymore, and was invoking her right to feel selfish and left out.

"_Lizzie_, just be nice? It's all I ask," Jane said, her voice breaking slightly.

Eliza sat up in alarm at the sound of the hurt in her sister's voice. She immediately felt furious with herself; what kind of sister was she? Jane was the sweetest, most generous person in the whole world, and Eliza was acting like a bratty child just because Jane was happy, and deservingly so.

"Oh, Jane, I'm sorry," Eliza said, moving to her sister and throwing her arms around her. Jane sniffled against her shoulder. "I've been a horrible, _horrible _sister… I'll be nicer, I swear," Eliza went on, her heart sinking. "I just…"

"I know, Lizzie, I know. No one's ever come between us like this, and it's all my fault," Jane said, still sniffling. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What? You? Nothing's your fault, sweetie. I've been lucky enough to have you all to myself for twenty-one years. I'm just being selfish – it's time to give someone else a chance to have the joy of having you all to themself." She smiled encouragingly to her sister, whose breathing calmed as she smiled back.

"Charles is perfect for you… and I doubt he's ever even hurt a fly," Eliza said with a chuckle. "He's probably a huge pansy."

Jane giggled happily. "I won't get hurt, I promise."

Eliza knew it was foolish promise, but Jane was smiling so happily that she nodded. She was about to lay back down when her phone began ringing like mad. Diving into her bag, Eliza fished around for it.

"Hello?" she said when she finally found it.

"Lizzie! Why didn't you answer sooner? Have you no consideration for my poor nerves! Get home at once, your father's new intern has just arrived!" her mother's shrill voice came through the other end.

"Mom? Is that you?" Eliza said teasingly.

"Lizzie! This is no time for your jokes! Get over here at once!"

"But I thought he wasn't coming until the weekend," Eliza said, recalling her father mentioning to her that his new intern would be trailing him around his home office for a few weeks. _What was his name_? she tried to recall. _Tim? Frank? … Tom? That's it, Tom!_

"He came early! Come home this moment!" Click. Her mother had hung up, and Eliza rolled her eyes at Jane.

"Come on, we'd better get home before Mom has a heart attack. Dad's intern is here," she said bleakly.

"Already?" Jane asked, surprised. "But I thought…"

"Yeah, he came early. Let's pack up," Eliza said, standing up and beginning to roll up her towel.

"What's Dad told you about him?" Jane asked as they began to walk back home.

"He sounds like a very strange dude. Dad said he used to be a ballet dancer" – Jane giggled – "but that his patron persuaded him he was horrible and got him a place at Yale Law."

"Who was his patron? They're always so delightfully wealthy! Can you imagine being a patron of a ballet dancer? Or an opera singer? Or perhaps an entire orchestra!"

Eliza laughed at her sister's enthusiasm. "You can ask him. I'm sure when you and Bingley are married and rolling in your own dough, you can be a patroness of anyone you want."

"Lizzie," Jane admonished, but she smiled all the same.

They reached home a few moments later; a sleek, shiny Mercedes-Benz was parked in the drive. Hurrying inside, they heard their mother's voice coming from the sun room.

"Oh and we must show you the garden – oh! There you are, girls! Come, come, Tom is dying to meet you!" their mother hurried toward them and pulled them forcibly into the room.

A man whose build looked remarkably like Bingley's was standing with his back to them, but upon hearing them coming into the room, he turned around and Eliza couldn't help but gasp. Although slightly tall and lanky, Tom Collins had none of the deportment and grace that made Bingley so appealing. Instead, he had a rather large head set upon his skinny neck; his face was pudgy, with dull skin, small, beady eyes, and quite a prominent nose. He smiled in delight upon seeing them, and Mrs. Bennet patted Eliza's arm excitedly.

"Tom, please meet my two eldest daughters, Jane and Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet said her eyes fixed on Tom, whose eyes had bulged as he stepped closer.

"Miss Jane, Miss Elizabeth, it is an absolute honor to meet you. I've heard so much of your beauty, ladies, but I can assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that none of the rumors come close. Not close at all. Why, if my esteemed patroness, _Lady_ Catherine de Bourgh were here, she would be delighted. She has the finest taste in beauty," Tom said, kissing Jane's and then Eliza's hand. His voice was high and nasally, as if he had a constant cold.

"_Lady_ Catherine?" Eliza inquired, very intrigued indeed.

"Yes, Elizabeth, _Lady_ Catherine resides in England most of the year; she married the title-holding _Lord_ de Bourgh, God rest his soul. But of course, she also has a house in Manhattan."

"Right, of course," Eliza said. "And how exactly did she become your patroness?"

Tom seemed beyond thrilled that she had asked. "Well, my dear Elizabeth, Lady Catherine is one the most respected patron of the arts in both London and New York. Many of my fellow thespians had patrons who pay a great deal of money to see their dancers on stage. But of course, Lady Catherine, in her infinite wisdom, persuaded me that I was far more fit for the law. She has been providing for my education ever since."

"Well, Lady Catherine sounds like a very kind and generous person," Eliza said politely.

"Oh, she is very generous, very generous indeed, Elizabeth. Being in her position in life, she does not have to be so generous, but Lady Catherine is filled with charity. Of course, she holds very high standards, yes she does Elizabeth, but that is to be expected."

"Naturally," Eliza said, feeling uncomfortable that all his attention and conversation was being directed at her. Her mother, however, was watching them with the upmost happiness.

"Has my mother offered you anything to drink, Mr. Collins?" Eliza said desperately. "I myself am rather parched, can I get you something?"

"Oh, no thank you, Elizabeth, you are too kind," he said with a smile. Eliza smiled hesitantly back, and then darted out the door.

_Yuck_, she thought as she walked to the kitchen. _What a nincompoop. Haha, nincompoop._ She giggled as she filled a glass of water, but her amusement was short-lived. She knew her mother would push her towards him to no end, now that Jane was practically married to Bingley. Tom seemed to have a great deal of money because of this _Lady_ Catherine, and lawyers – corporate lawyers, that is – made a good chuck of change. She sighed, but gulped down the rest of her water and went back into the sun room. She had disappointed her mother before, and she wouldn't feel terrible about doing it again.

"Ah, Elizabeth," Tom said the moment she stepped into the room. He was standing by himself by the window; the others had seemed to find things to amuse them for a while: Jane was talking on the phone (probably with Bingley), her mother was reading a magazine, Lydia and Cate had run outside, and Mary was practicing her flute softly in the corner.

Eliza turned a grimace into a smile and walked over to Tom. He motioned that they sit on the window seat, and she did so, making sure to keep a good foot between them.

"Your mother tells me you'll be a senior at NYU this year," he began.

She nodded in reply.

"A fine school – Lady Catherine herself has said so," he said pointedly, as if that would impress her. She raised her eyebrows in an impressed sort of way, and he seemed pleased.

"And what is your major?" he asked.

"Anthropology, but I've already finished all my credits. I'll be focusing on my Art minor this year," she said; she'd rather talk herself than listen to him blather on. "In fact, in mid-July I'll be doing an internship at the Metropolitan."

"Is that so?" he said. "Lady Catherine just adores the Metropolitan, she is a well-known donator there as well. If you mention her name, you'll be gold," he said in what he must have thought a helpful way. It was obvious that he thought this hint would thrill her, and she inwardly rolled her eyes but gratified him.

"Wonderful! I'll be sure to do that," she said with a false smile.

"You won't be sorry, Elizabeth," he said happily. "Now, what is this I hear about a party on the 4th of July?"

Eliza was caught completely off guard. She looked to her mother, who winked noticeably. She groaned softly, but hitched a smile back on her face.

"Yes, the young man who has rented the large mansion on the beach is having a little get-together," she said, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Jane practically hopped over to them, a broad smile on her face.

"Oh, excuse me, Tom, but Lizzie, Charles has just told me the most exciting news. He and his sisters have decided to make the party a black-tie in their ballroom!"

"They have a _ballroom_?" Eliza asked, blown away.

"Yes, and they're going to have an orchestra and everything! Won't it be delightful?"

"Oh, Jane, we must going into the city and buy you a dress!" Mrs. Bennet said at once. "And you, too, Lizzie, you want to look your best, don't you?" she said, nodding her head toward Tom. "Tom, you'll join us, won't you? For the party, I mean, not for shopping! We wouldn't want to bore you!"

"Oh, Mrs. Bennet, you could never bore me," he replied, staring very intently at Elizabeth. Eliza also felt she was in no danger of being bored; on the contrary, she felt rather in danger of severe upset stomach.

* * *

Bingley's 4th of July party came far too quickly for Eliza's taste. She had finally learned how to avoid Tom moderately successfully (employing the help of her father, of course), but at the party nowhere would be safe. He could follow her around all night if he wished, and she had the foreboding feeling that that was _exactly_ what he would do. Mrs. Bennet kept exclaiming in glee how much in love with Eliza Tom was, and how wonderful it was that he could be around so often. Eliza rather thought that Tom was in love with his _esteemed_ patroness Lady Catherine… or at least with her money. What baffled her was why Tom insisted on being so infatuated with her when Eliza had relatively little to offer as far as money went, and it was quite obvious that Tom was as much infatuated with wealth as he was with Elizabeth. Lady Catherine's opulent mansions, cars, and private jets took up much of his conversation, and her impressive generosity was praised more often than Elizabeth… and he praised Elizabeth quite often.

Eliza had never much fancied the idea of falling in love and settling down, for the simple reason that it seemed to take up too much of your time. Indeed, she was seeing even less of the smitten Jane as the days wore on, and Tom was spending so much time being "in love" with Eliza that he spent not nearly enough time doing what he ought – that is, being her father's intern. The Friday before the party – which was that Sunday – Tom had followed Eliza around speaking of nothing but what a joy it would be to waltz with her. Eliza only knew how to waltz because her aunt had taken her and Jane to lessons when they were younger, but she suspected that Tom, who was rather klutzy, didn't even know his right foot from his left. She was fearing the party so much that she considered throwing herself down the stairs, but decided against it – after all, she began her internship in two weeks, while Tom would stay here… and she didn't want to begin her internsip with a broken foot.

"Eliza, I must respectfully demand the first dance. I shall be absolutely distraught if you dance with someone else," Tom said as he watched Eliza clean out the goldfish aquarium.

Eliza's heart dropped, but knew it was impossible to say no. Tom would just stand by her side and scare away any other guy who might want to dance with her.

"Of course, I'd love to," she said dully.

"Excellent! You must be such a wonderful dancer," he mused, gazing at her with his beady eyes.

She laughed hollowly. "We'll see."

* * *

Sunday arrived so fast Eliza felt sure the clocks must have been turned ahead. She felt as if a stone had formed in her stomach overnight; this was bound to be the most humiliating day of her life, even more so than the time she threw up while making a speech in the ninth grade.

"Oh Lizzie don't look so glum. Who knows, maybe Tom's a wonderful dancer," Jane told her over breakfast, trying to soothe her, but it was so obvious that Jane was giddy with excitement that Eliza was not soothed at all.

Jane eventually gave up on Eliza and began telling the others that Charles had told her that if this party went well, he'd be delighted to have another. Eliza had to excuse herself from the table; she was in desperate need of some Pepto Bismol.

As the day wore on, and Eliza and Jane were sent to the salon for their hair and makeup – they were, after all, the two with the most immediate romantic prospects – Eliza was torn between anxiety and incredulity _at_ her anxiety. Normally she was calm and collected, and tackled things head on, but day after day of employing every clever technique she could think of to shake Tom off and none being successful, she was beginning to think that she was destined to have him constantly by her side for the rest of her life. And she hardly wanted the entire neighborhood to think that she was as much in love with him as he was with her, but with their gossiping tongues and ability to jump to conclusions, she had no doubt that they would have her marrying him before she even graduated.

Eliza was just zipping up her dress, when,

"Lizzie! Tom is here for you, dear! Hurry up!" her mother called through the door.

"What?" she exclaimed, her stomach dropping ever lower. "I thought he was meeting us there," she said through clenched teeth as she poked her head out the door.

"No, dear, he wants to take you. Isn't that sweet?" Mrs. Bennet said, glaring at Eliza even as she smiled.

Eliza sighed. "Tell him I just have to put my shoes on."

Mrs. Bennet flew down the stairs to tell him. Eliza slowly pulled her shoes out of their box and wearily began to put them on.

"Oh, Lizzie, it won't be so bad," Jane said.

But Eliza was already angry enough that Jane's ever-present patience and sweetness just annoyed her.

"Yeah, maybe for you, because you've got _super_-boyfriend. I've gotten fuckin' Senator Kennedy down there probably having an orgasm about something fucking _Lady_ Catherine said. But I don't see anyone feeling sorry for _me_ because I'm practically married to a guy I _loathe_. Noooooo, they're fawning over _you_ and Mr. Perfect and Charming!" she finished bitterly.

"Lizzie, I –" Jane began, but Eliza didn't want to hear it.

"I'll see you there," she said, and stormed out of the room. Tom was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs looking pretentious as ever in a crisp tuxedo. He was practically drooling by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, but she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to the door.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

For those nifty non-Americans, Senator Kennedy is a US senator from Massachussetts with an abnormally large head. But he's a Democrat, so hoorah for him! 


	4. Getting to Know You

Chapter 4 – _Getting to Know You_

The moment Eliza stepped out of Tom's Mercedes and saw Bingley's happy, smiling, and completely harmless face, she heavily regretted what she had said to her sister. Jane deserved to be happy, and if Bingley couldn't make her so than no one could. She decided then and there that Bingley deserved her sister, as no one had ever deserved her before. She felt awful.

Tom tried to entwine her arm with his as they walked up the steps to Bingley's front door, but Eliza subtly shook him off and smiled at Bingley.

"Eliza! It's so good to see you!" he said warmly, even though it had been only two days since they last saw each other.

She laughed; every word he said was confirming his worthiness.

"And you, too, Charles," she said. Her smile faltered slightly as she stepped aside so that Tom could come forward and shake Charles' hand.

"Charles Bingley, this is my father's summer intern from Yale, Tom Collins," she said, careful to say nothing about how she felt about Tom; either good or bad.

"What a wonderful house you have, Charles!" Tom immediately began to gush. Eliza began to edge toward the door while poor Charles listened to Tom's raptures – "The Lady Catherine would adore these windows!" – and finally made her way into the house without being noticed. The front hall was very impressive for a beach home, with dark wood floors, and elegant grand staircase, and a sparkling chandelier.

"Oh, my dear Eliza!"

Eliza grimaced as she heard Caroline Bingley's voice calling to her. She turned to her left to see Caroline standing by the only door on the left wall, her skinny frame clasped tightly into a long, black dress. Eliza forced a smile and walked to her.

"I'm so glad you come… but where are all your family?" Caroline asked, her ample lips puckered in a haughty pout.

"They'll be here soon," Eliza told her, still smiling.

"Excellent. Your sister! What a doll, I don't know what I would do all the way out here without her!"

Eliza's face was beginning to hurt, but she continued smiling.

"Yes, isn't she?" she said, but someone else claimed Caroline's attention, and she was finally free to walk inside.

Eliza had to gasp in shock the moment she entered; it really was a ballroom. Set down a few steps, the enormous, high-ceilinged room had a creamy, white marble floor and another glittering chandelier. A veranda of sorts stretched around the room; the wall opposite her consisted of full-length windows that extended the whole length of the wall. Many people were already at the party, standing or sitting along the veranda chatting and drinking. She caught sight of Charlotte and hurried over.

"Can you believe this place?" she said to Charlotte, her mouth still agape.

"Isn't it incredible? Look at the orchestra!" Charlotte squealed.

A twenty-piece orchestra was set up on a raised platform at the end of the room, softly playing in the background.

"Wow," she breathed. "Wait until Jane sees this."

* * *

_Stop it. Stop looking at the door. Who cares who comes to this party? There's no one here worth my attention… not yet, anyway. No, stop it!_

William had been fighting with himself all day, and he knew he must have looked rather crazed standing in a corner by himself, staring hard at the floor. But he had to stare at the floor to keep himself from staring at the door, which had been doing nonstop since the party started.

Eliza Bennet's laughter had been ringing in his ears ever since the last party, and he hated how much it was distressing him. He had thought that "casually" passing her and her sister on the beach with Bingley would disenchant him; he would hear her speak some more, prove to himself that she really wasn't worth another thought, and that would be that. But although she had never spoken to _him_ directly, she _had_ spoken. And she had been intelligent and witty… and she had laughed, and her laughter had been even more wonderful the more he heard it. So now he was at Bingley's party, and any moment she would walk through that door… but, he kept reminding himself, he was in no real danger. For heaven's sake, she lived on _Long Island!_ His family had been land-owning, title-holding, proper Englishmen for centuries, and he would rather die than disgrace his family. _Exactly._ _She would be a disgrace… a disgrace… a disgrace…_

With that calming thought, he finally looked up from the floor. What a mistake. His stomach flipped right over itself as he watched Elizabeth come through the door in long, satin lilac dress. No mind that she looked hassled and irritated; in fact, she looked even more beautiful that way.

_No! Stop it! _He shook his head forcefully, which cleared his senses enough that he nearly scampered away when he saw Elizabeth walking in his direction. If he stayed away from her, this silly thing would pass and life would go back to normal.

William spent most of the party trying desperately to keep his mind occupied, but no matter how many times he danced with Caroline or how many nonsensically boring people he met, his eyes somehow always seemed to find her. When the orchestra had first begun playing, he watched as the horribly disproportioned young man who had been hovering constantly by Elizabeth's side swept her onto the dance floor without even letting her set down her drink. He watched in dismay as the man began to do a sort of jig which he must have thought was a waltz, while Elizabeth looked torn between fury and humiliation.

_That man doesn't deserve to even stand up with her!_

Halfway into their third dance, Darcy was beginning to feel entranced with the man's flailing limbs when Elizabeth abruptly turned away from him and left the floor. He hurried after her, leaving a path of toppled dancers in his path. Elizabeth had gone straight to the bar, obviously trying to shake him off, but it was no use. William felt an insane urge to run over and save her, but checked himself. It would be almost as much punishment for him to dance with her as it had been for her to dance with the clumsy young man. His usual calm, sensible mind was slowly winning over his attraction to Eliza. Yes, she was nice to look at, and yes, her laughter did strange things to his insides, but what of it? His life was going just the way he wanted it to, and the thought of even having a fling with someone like Eliza would be something he would regret for the rest of his life.

"Who knew entertaining the _village folk_ would be so easy?" a dull voice said at his elbow. Caroline draped an arm over his shoulders and laughed at her own _brilliant_ wit. William made no answer.

"I mean, any small amount of quality seems to amuse them greatly!" she went on. She motioned toward the buffet, where many people were crowded. The bar was also swarming, and those on the dance floor were clearly having a jolly good time. William finally laughed, albeit dryly and without amusement.

"Yes, Caroline, you seem to have a knack for entertaining the rustics," he said.

She laughed as if he had told a great joke. "Yes, I do, don't I? But what about you, William? You seem so bored. What can I do to _amuse_ you?"

But William's eyes had just caught Elizabeth again, who was looking distraught, and it was easy to see why: the young man was chattering nonstop to her.

"On the contrary, I haven't been bored at all," he said, suddenly wishing desperately that Elizabeth were next to him and not Caroline.

"Oh _really_?" Caroline said, not so subtly adjusting her dress as she pressed up against him. "Well, we haven't danced in nearly a half hour…" she trailed off hopefully.

But William's mind was far from dancing with Caroline. Instead, the sensible part of his brain just hatched a brilliant plan. Caroline _lusted_ after him but didn't actually _love_ him. So all he had to do was prove that his… feelings, if you could call them that… for Elizabeth were merely lust, and nothing more serious. If he would be proved wrong, then he was in serious trouble, but he highly doubted that. He was a man, a _young_ man, and it was perfectly natural to find a girl's features appealing. Right?

It was time for William to save a damsel in distress.

* * *

The very moment Jane had entered the room, Eliza had bounded over to her, leaving Tom in the dust, and apologized profusely. Jane, of course, was understanding and insisted that it was all her fault. Eliza wanted to stay and talk a little longer, if only to stay away from Tom as long as possible, but soon the Bingley vultures had descended, and she was forced to leave. She tried to stay close to Charlotte whenever she could, be Charlotte was constantly being dragged away by her father to be introduced, which left Eliza to stand with Tom, whose voice she could tune out pretty well, but she knew others around them probably could not.

She had been on her second martini when the orchestra started up; Tom, excited beyond all reason, had grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor, martini and all. But she clutched onto it tight, because the moment Tom began to move, she felt she would need a whole pitcher of vodka in order to not die on the spot. It was worse than anything she had every imagined. He had grabbed her by the waist with both hands and began twirling in her circles, not bothering to notice who they crashed into or whose feet he stepped on (mostly hers). She had finally put her hands gingerly on his shoulders, when he grabbed her hands instead and began trying to do an odd turn/twist movement. It was horribly awkward – not to mention painful – but no matter what she said he would not stop. Three dances in, she had given up all resistance and had taken to just standing still while Tom danced around her. Unfortunately, she looked up from the dance floor to see William Darcy looking at her with a mixture of alarm and discomfiture on his face. For whatever reason, this made her feel mortified almost to tears and without saying a word to Tom, she turned and walked quickly off the floor, praying to God that he wouldn't follow. She went straight to the bar.

"Elizabeth, are you feeling alright?"

Eliza groaned audibly as Tom skidded to a stop beside her.

"I was just feeling a little dizzy," she said; well, it was the truth.

"Perhaps you should have some water," Tom said, and frantically began to try and get the bartender's attention.

Eliza collapsed on a bench nearby, wanting nothing more than to just sit there until she died, which was bound to be soon. She saw Bingley and Jane on the dance floor, waltzing away happily, and felt sick as Tom came back to her with a water. She mumbled her thanks, but the moment he sat down next to her and began talking again, she stood up and began to walk away. He followed, of course, talking nonstop about the music, and whether Lady Catherine would approve. She was doing nothing to conceal her misery, and was sure she looked positively awful to anyone passing by.

"You know, Elizabeth, we really should go dance again. You move so wonderfully!" Tom was saying.

"As do _you_, sir, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Bennet away for a moment."

_Finally!_ Elizabeth thought as her heart leapt for joy. _A savior!_ She turned to the speaker with a broad smile on her face.

It faltered upon seeing who exactly her savior was.

_Oh no.

* * *

_

The shock on Elizabeth's face made William's cheeks burn, and he had to remind himself as forcefully as he could that it was all for a good cause: his peace of mind.

Her shock, however, was soon overpowered by what was undoubtedly relief; she smiled graciously and took his arm, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a slow waltz as he placed one hand on the small of her back and the other in her awaiting palm. A tremor of excitement ran up and down his spine at her touch, but he did not dwell on the feeling. _Physical, _he reminded himself, _purely physical._

They had twirled around a few times before Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, opening her mouth to speak. _No!_ he thought desperately. He hadn't wanted to talk… talking wasn't just physical!

"Well, I'm surprised at you, Mr. Darcy," she began with a slow, ever growing smile. "You're an excellent dancer… I suppose it's lucky the orchestra didn't bring their synthesizer with them."

He paused; what was that supposed to mean? And then, very suddenly, he remembered: "_She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not enough to tempt me to dance to anything that involves a synthesizer."_

"Perhaps without one, I can hope to live up to your expectations," she said, her smile becoming a grin.

He grimaced and looked down, properly ashamed; although he had to admit, he _had_ meant it at the time.

"If I have ever said anything to upset you, Elizabeth, I am truly sorry," he said politely.

She laughed, and his stomach flipped for the millionth time that evening.

"No you're not," she said with a teasing smile, her eyes laughing as well. "But since you have just saved me from a certain and painful death," she went on, looking over to where the horrible young man stood, "I suppose I can forgive you."

"You are too kind, Elizabeth," he said wryly, also looking over, where the young man was leaning so far over the banister, staring avidly at them, that he was in danger of falling over.

She smiled again and looked back at him. He wasn't sure what to think; on one hand, he was still appalled at her manners, but on the other, he found her honesty refreshing. He smiled as well as he caught a glimpse of Caroline seething by the buffet line.

"It's Eliza," she said.

He blinked and took his eyes away from Caroline.

"I… pardon?" he stammered; instead of flipping, his stomach seemed to be inflating like a balloon.

"Call me Eliza," she repeated. "Elizabeth is so dull and proper, don't you think?"

He smiled again… he had never smiled so much in someone's company besides his sister. His purpose collapsed then and there. His heart began to race; _what now?_ he thought desperately. Was he doomed to think of her and her laughter all the time? She smiled brightly back at him, but her eyes were glittering mischievously.

"What?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She paused, seeming to evaluate him. "Would you mind dancing the next one with me?" she asked. "Perhaps if I'm lucky, Tom will find someone else to idolize for the next five minutes."

At the moment, Will felt like he would have danced with her all night, even if she only wanted to so as to get away from someone else. But it probably wasn't wise to tell her this.

"Tom?" he asked instead.

She made a face and nodded her head in overzealous young man's direction.

"Ah," he said, but noticing her questioning yet hopeful look, he realized he hadn't yet answered her question.

"I'd love to dance with you again."

* * *

Eliza was very surprised that Darcy had agreed to dance with her again; she had thought he would politely decline, then run away before he could embarrass himself any more. But then, she was still surprised that _he_ had asked _her_ to dance at all… he was puzzling her exceedingly. He wasn't being friendly so much as he was just being courteous. She was still noticing him grimace ever so slightly whenever one of her neighbors waltzed – not very well – past them. And although he smiled every so often, it barely reached his forest green eyes, which remained proud and distant. The worst was his eyebrows, which remained arched in condescension no matter what he did with the rest of his face. Although she felt a bit of gratitude toward him for saving her from Tom, she continued to dislike him greatly. She knew she was being rather short with him, but the only way she knew how to deal with aloof, haughty people was to be honest with them, which, in their eyes, equated with rudeness. But he didn't seem as angry with her as most rich snobs would be… in fact, his face betrayed no emotion of any kind. _He must be excellent at poker, _she thought.

They waltzed in silence; Darcy seemed content, but Eliza was restless. He was like a riddle she was trying to figure out… and Eliza loved riddles.

"Amazing weather we're having," she began, trying not to smile. He looked surprised at the abrupt change into conversation, and merely nodded.

They twirled a few more times before she grinned at him.

"Well?" she said. "Your turn."

"My turn for what?" he replied in his deep, slow British accent.

"I commented on the weather. It is now your turn to comment on something harmless and uninteresting… like the number of people dancing," she suggested.

He smiled. "I didn't know dancing also involved small talk," he said.

"What, don't people have conversations in London?" she asked, still grinning.

"Yes, but usually in circumstances where the participants are standing still," he said, beginning to smile as well. He spoke in an even, confident voice… did all Oxford graduates speak with such elaborate language? she wondered. Bingley certainly didn't speak so formally all the time. No wonder no one likes him, she thought. One sentence took an hour for him to say.

"Ah, I see," she said. "How very boring," she mused, subtly mocking his proper British accent.

But to her great astonishment, he laughed, and despite her dislike, she found that she _did_ like his laugh quite a lot. It was the only thing about him that seemed human; it was deep and warm… she wondered who ever got to hear it, and whether she should count herself lucky to be one of only a few. She had a feeling he did not laugh often.

"Well," he said, his laugh dying down but a smile settling on his face, "the English are very set in their ways."

"Yes… but perhaps that's a good thing," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his smile fading.

"When I was five, and we moved here, there were no houses on the beach. There was just sand for miles and miles… and now there are houses and businesses all over the place. Sometimes I wish America would just stop… _growing_ so much." She sighed. "We'll regret it one day, when we have no trees or natural land left."

He pondered her for a moment, and then he said, "Have you ever been to England?"

She sighed again, and shook her head. "No, but I would like to very much. I had hoped to study abroad while in college, but it was just too expensive," she said, watching his reaction. But of course, he seemed to have none… she had at least suspected some trace of incredulity that _anything_ could ever be _too_ expensive, but he had regained his unreadable, blank expression.

"You should," he simply said. "I think you would like it."

For a moment she felt indignant that he would presume to know anything about what she liked, but it faded quickly, because she knew what he said was true.

"Where do you live in England?" she asked.

"Derbyshire," he answered. "Technically, that is. My family's estate is there, but when I graduate, I'll work mostly in London."

"What are you studying?" was her next question; now that they had a conversation, she wanted to keep it going.

"Law," he replied; although he was answering all her questions, his voice remained aloof… she hardly felt like she was getting to know him at all. "But I studied art at Oxford, much to my family's chagrin."

Her expression brightened at this. "Really? I'm minoring in art," she told him.

He smiled lightly, and for a brief moment she saw it reflect in his eyes. It left as quickly as it had come. He opened his mouth to reply, but just then the song ended; out of nowhere, Caroline Bingley came slithering up to Darcy. Not wanting to have to talk to _that_ abomination, she gave her thanks to Darcy and walked away… she didn't notice that his face, usually so calm, was now almost twisted in desperation.

* * *

"What a charming couple you two make!" exclaimed Caroline the moment Eliza had walked away. William's heart had plummeted when the song ended; he had enjoyed their dances far more than he had ever intended to, but it wasn't often that he got to speak with an honest, intelligent woman. Caroline was always pouring compliments and sexual innuendoes on him, and the girls at school either only saw his money or his looks when they talked to him. He hated watching Eliza walk away, and so he shook his head slightly at Caroline and began to walk away as well.

Caroline, however, was not to be deterred. "I say, Darcy, I had no idea you had such a fondness for the natives!" she said with a shrill laugh. "They'll be talking about it for weeks! Indeed, they've barely gotten over your last appearance in the neighborhood!"

He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, Caroline?"

"I overheard that abominable Mrs. Bennet and a few others saying how much they still dislike _you_ after something you said to Miss Eliza over there at the last party!" She laughed again. "Making amends, were you Darcy?"

William looked over to where Eliza now stood, looking bored next to Tom. He couldn't care less whether everybody else hated him, but did she? She noticed him looking and smiled lightly, rolling her eyes at Tom and pretending to choke herself. He laughed again… she certainly hadn't seemed like she had _hated_ him, but he had noticed her subtle jabs at his haughtiness. _Had_ he been haughty? He was inclined to say no, but then, who was he to judge? He had never been in the company of people like this before… people who couldn't even afford to go to Europe.

"Yes, that's exactly it, Caroline," he finally answered.

What did it matter what Eliza thought anyway? He had enjoyed her company, but he reminded himself that he would be leaving in two weeks, and then he would forget her entirely. Whatever he was feeling, it would pass, and he suddenly couldn't wait to be in an Eliza-free place. He turned and smiled at Caroline.

"Would you care to dance?"

* * *

The Bennets left the party very satisfied, indeed. Bingley had barely danced with anyone besides Jane, who was trying very hard to not appear as giddy as she really was. A few minutes were spent dwelling on why in the world Darcy had asked _Eliza_ to dance, but the excitement over Bingley was just too much to talk about anything else.

"Oh, Lizzie, he's _so_ wonderful," Jane was gushing later as they climbed into bed. She hadn't stopped smiling since they came home, and now Eliza was beginning to smile as well, for no apparent reason.

"You may have found the one, Jane!" Eliza teased. Jane giggled, rolling onto her side so that they were face to face.

"What if he is, Lizzie?" she said a few moments later, much more sober. "How will I know?"

Eliza shrugged. "I have no idea," she said with a smile. "But I think you'll know."

Jane smiled and rolled back onto her back, flicking off the light.

"Good night, Lizzie."

"Good night, Jane," Eliza replied; when she fell asleep, though, a deep, warm laugh echoed in her dreams.


	5. The Worries of Eliza

Chapter 5 – _The Worries of Eliza_

The next day, Eliza and Charlotte had braved the city heat and went into the Village to shop for Eliza's internship. She was basically going to be trailing the Met's main art historian and researcher as he prepared for a new exhibit on Picasso; she was in desperate need of some new professional-looking clothes, and so Charlotte had persuaded her to come out of her nice air-conditioning to shop.

Her arms already loaded down with bags, Charlotte pushed Eliza into yet another store. They walked to a display of summery business suits, and as Charlotte looked around, Eliza placed down her bags and rubbed her sore hands.

"Eliza?" Charlotte said suddenly.

"I just got a blue blazer, I don't need another one," Eliza preempted her question, seeing what Charlotte was looking at.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Eliza." She paused. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while."

"Oh." Eliza furrowed her brows; Charlotte looked very serious. "What's that?"

"It's about Jane." Charlotte paused again, trying to form the right words. "I'm worried about her."

"Why?" Eliza asked, startled. "She's happier than she's ever been!"

Charlotte nodded. "I know, but that's only because I _know_ her."

"What are you saying?"

"I just mean that, to someone who doesn't know Jane very well, she seems… distant with Bingley."

Eliza laughed. "Distant? Charlotte, you know Jane, she's shy."

"Exactly!" Charlotte said, throwing up her hands. "I _know_ her, so I _know_ she's shy. But what about Bingley? They're never affectionate toward each to her… have they even kissed? I mean, are they on the same page as far as their relationship?"

Eliza made a scoffing sound in her throat, but then paused. Charlotte may have a point… Jane and Charles rarely held hands or kissed in public, and they always seemed to be surrounded by other people… in fact, Eliza remembered with a sinking heart, Darcy and Bingley's sisters went practically everywhere with them, even on so-called dates. To the passing eye, it might seem as if Jane and Charles were just very good friends, and nothing more. And Jane never called Bingley her boyfriend, nor had told Eliza that they had made it official. But surely Bingley would see how much Jane liked him, Eliza thought defensively. And if he didn't, then he was just an unfeeling prick and certainly not worthy of Jane.

"But she's madly in love with him!" Eliza mused. "She's not the clingy type. She just doesn't want to scare him away before she knows _he_ is in love with _her_."

Charlotte sighed. "But if she doesn't show a little more _romantic_ interest in him, what will happen at the end of the summer? He'll write it off as nothing more than a fun summer fling. And _she_ will be brokenhearted."

Eliza sighed as well, her hands throbbing from the thin, abrasive handles of all her shopping bags. She knew she should talk to her sister about this but found she really didn't want to; it would hurt and shock Jane. Hadn't Eliza feared this from the start? Hadn't she feared that Bingley, no matter how sweet or kind-hearted he was, would still be at the mercy of his high society friends and family, and that Jane, with her sweet but very sensitive heart, would still put up her guard? Jane was no ditz… she was shy and modest, and it always pained Eliza to see her shield herself, test the waters first, before becoming the affectionate and loving friend (or girlfriend) that Eliza knew she was. And it especially hurt now, when Eliza knew that Jane truly was in love with Bingley.

But then again, she thought angrily, why wasn't _Bingley_ more affectionate? Why didn't _he_ make a move? And why _did_ he let his friend and sisters come on dates that were supposed to be for him and Jane alone? Her thoughts flickered to Darcy. This had to be some of his doing, if not all. She knew what sort of sway he held of his friend, and Bingley, in his harmless innocence, probably listened to every word Darcy said with reverence.

"Should we talk to her?" Charlotte asked, breaking through Eliza's thoughts.

"I suppose," Eliza said, not especially liking the idea.

"Surely she'll understand," Charlotte said.

Eliza shrugged. "God, I hope so."

* * *

Later, as Eliza struggled to walk down the street loaded down with her bags, Charlotte stopped dead in front of her, causing Eliza to drop her bags and both girls to almost fall flat on their faces.

"Charlotte!" Eliza cried. "What are you doing?"

Charlotte just mumbled something and started to make a big commotion of picking up the bags. Eliza, however, was not to be fooled. She looked up, and immediately growled. Across the street, at an Italian restaurant, sat her sisters Cate and Lydia. They weren't alone, however; two young men from their neighborhood who also happened to be in a rock band that was just starting to hit it big, sat with them. Cate and Lydia had turned into even flightier twits then usual ever since the boys had returned home for a short visit. Mrs. Bennet turned a blind eye, but Eliza, along with Mr. Bennet, knew what sort of trouble these boys could get Cate and Lydia into. And right now, Eliza was quite sure that no one at home knew that the two girls were here.

Eliza scooped up her bags and marched across the street, paying little attention to traffic. Cate, the younger of the two, noticed her coming; her face fell and she whispered quickly into Lydia's ear. Lydia, being the bolder one, just shrugged and turned to face Eliza with a smile.

"Lizzie!" she called, waving. Eliza stormed up to them, seething.

"Lizzie, what are you doing here?" Lydia said sweetly.

Eliza glared at her, and then shook her shopping bags in her sister's face. "What does it look like?"

Lydia just laughed. "I was being sarcastic, silly."

"What are _you_ doing here?" Eliza said, looking at the unkempt boys. It looked like they hadn't showered in weeks.

"We were just having lunch with Rob and Matt," Cate quickly said, noticing Eliza's stormy face.

"And then we're going to their apartment later," Lydia added. Cate rolled her eyes; Lydia had never been one for discretion.

"Like hell you are," Eliza said. "You're sixteen! And Cate, you're fifteen! I'm calling Dad," she said, fishing out her phone.

"Lizzie!" Lydia cried. "You're such a tattletale… you don't let us have any fun," she said, pouting.

"Well, since you sure as hell won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to Dad," she said, beginning to dial.

"Alright, alright!" Lydia cried in defeat. "We'll go home. Sorry Rob, sorry Matt."

The boys just shrugged, stood up, and left without saying goodbye.

"Lizzie!" Lydia screeched. "Do you have to be such a prude?"

"I'm not a prude!" Eliza argued. "I'm looking out for you, that's what big sisters do."

"No, big sisters take their little sisters to parties and let them have fun. Just because you don't get any action doesn't mean we can't."

Eliza sighed; it was hopeless.

"At least wait until you're a senior in high school, Lydia. That's all I ask."

Lydia just tossed her hair and began to walk away. Cate mumbled an apology and followed after her.

"What am I going to do with those two?" Eliza said to Charlotte.

"It's not your responsibility, Lizzie," Charlotte said.

"If it's not mine, then whose is it?" Eliza said. "My mother does nothing to control them. And my father is too busy to be bothered with it."

Charlotte just shook her head and helped Eliza pick up her bags.

"Eliza?" she asked a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"How long _has_ it been since you… ya know… hooked up with someone?"

Eliza raised her eyebrow. "What, you think I'm a prude, too?"

"No," Charlotte said quickly. "I just… you haven't mentioned anything in a long time."

Eliza sighed. She tried not to think about her love life, or lack thereof, very often. She had never really had a true boyfriend, just passing flings. She was too busy… what with her family, school, work. There'd be time for all that stuff later, right? And besides, she hadn't yet felt that connection, that certain spark, with anyone. _That's_ what she was waiting for. She wanted to be in love, madly and furiously. She wanted to feel a burning desire, a passion, a need to be with that one person. Physical attraction and lust just weren't enough. She wanted to be stimulated intellectually, she wanted to match wits with someone, learn something from them. She had gotten bored quickly with the men she had dated throughout college. Sometimes she slightly despaired of ever finding that one guy, but she was certain he was out there. He had to be.

"No, nothing for awhile now. But the guys at school are so…"

"Boring?" Charlotte suggested.

"Yes," Eliza said defensively. "They're smart and all, but all they care about are sports or alcohol. All the good ones are gay," she lamented.

Charlotte chuckled. "How true."

Eliza decided to change the subject. "So, can we go home now?"

Charlotte laughed. "Yes, we can."

"Good, I really want to talk to Jane. She hasn't answered her phone."

"Really? She must be with Charles."

"I have no doubt," Eliza said with a smile.

* * *

"It's absolutely ridiculous. He looks like such a fool! He's getting too attached… don't you agree, Will?"

Caroline, her sister, and Will were walking out of the Wednesday opera matinee, and Caroline was _still_ talking about her new favorite subject: Charles and Jane Bennet. She had talked the subject to death, seeing as they had left for Manhattan at ten in the morning, and it was now six, and she had talked of nothing else. William had already given his agreement easily twenty times, and although for once he actually did agree with Caroline, he was weary of it.

Charles, Will had noticed with growing concern, seemed to be far more sincere in his affection for Jane than he had been with any other girl he had ever gone out with. Having yet to proclaim his romantic affection, however, Charles, being the shy guy that he was, had continually asked Will and his sisters to come with him and Jane on their outings, lest Jane suspect his true feelings. Will felt sorry for his poor friend; he could tell that Charles was just gathering his courage and would eventually tell Jane that he loved her, but by the time it happened, it would probably be time for them to go back to school. Will took it upon himself to observe the two of them together, and it was quite obvious to him that Jane did not return Charles' feelings. She seemed to enjoy his company, surely, but there was nothing in her behavior that suggested love. However, out of courtesy for his friend, he did not suggest leaving just yet; he generously gave it a little more time, to see if perhaps Jane Bennet's feelings would change. If it was as he suspected, however, and she did not love Charles but was instead using him for all the free things he could give her (which was not entirely a stretch of the imagination, given her mother and the other Bennets), he would get Charles back to Manhattan as soon as possible. Of course, Will knew it would be easy to get Charles to leave Netherfield early; Darcy himself was leaving in just two weeks for an internship, and he certainly did not want to leave Charles here all alone, where the Bennets might be able to sink their claws in even deeper.

All this worrying about Charles and Jane had left Will with little time to think about other things… or other people. As a result, it was always a surprise when he found himself in close proximity to Eliza and couldn't prepare himself for the whirl of thoughts and emotions she conjured. Despite his best efforts – and the nagging voice of reason in his head – he found himself more and more attracted to her with every interaction. Her conversations (with other people of course) were witty, thoughtful, and even brought a faint hint of a smile to his face. It was a very strange feeling, for after being around her and not being able to shake his attraction, he would go home and reprimand himself, which would calm his senses and he would be able to think logically once more.

Will endured Caroline's bland conversation during the cab ride back to the house, where he immediately got as far away from her as possible. To his chagrin, however, Charles had left him a note saying that he and Jane had gone out… alone. _Poor Charles_, Will thought with a sigh. He never had any idea when people were fleecing him for all he was worth. If only he could be more like Will, who never got involved with women at all. It had certainly saved _him_ a world of trouble.

He poured himself a glass of wine and went into the library for some peace and quiet. No sooner had he sat down, though, than the doorbell rang. Growling in his throat, he stood back up and went into the hall. _If this is one of those blasted neighbors again…_

Will opened the door expecting to find himself facing certain boredom. What he found was Eliza.

"Oh… Eliza," was his brilliant opening remark.

"Hi, Darcy," she said with an uneasy smile. There was an awkward pause. "Is Jane here?" she asked.

"Ah… no, actually, Charles left me a note that they went out," he replied. Eliza was wearing a denim skirt and NYU shirt, and her hair was messily pulled back into a ponytail. Darcy felt like he was about to melt.

She looked disappointed. "Oh. She didn't answer her cell, so I thought maybe she was here."

"Is it important? I could call Charles," he offered.

"Oh, no that's alright. It's no biggie… I just wanted to catch her, is all." There was another odd pause. Darcy felt like he should invite her in, but if Caroline were to come downstairs… he didn't feel like he could stomach her oozing snide compliments all over Eliza.

"Well, sorry to disturb. See you around," Eliza broke the silence, and it was then that Darcy noticed her struggling to pick up several shopping bags at her feet. The gentleman in him was clawing its way out.

"Let me help you," he said, bending down to pick up the stragglers, but found there was no room in Eliza's hands to carry them.

"Allow me to drive you home," he offered.

"No, I'm fine, really," she immediately protested. "It's only five blocks."

"You cannot possibly carry these home. Stay here, I'll get my keys." He thought he heard a small groan but tried to block all thoughts of reason as he hurried to the back room and got the keys to his Mini Cooper. When he came back out, there were still five bags lying at her feet, and he knew she couldn't possibly protest anymore. He scooped up the remaining parcels and directed her to the garage.

"I suppose I got a little carried away," she mumbled against one bag. "Charlotte and I went shopping in the Village today," she explained.

"How did you get home?" he asked.

"The subway," she said.

"How on Earth did you make it from the subway to here?" he asked incredulously.

Her brow furrowed, and then she smiled. "I have no idea."

He turned to chuckle as the garage door opened. He was headed to the car door when he heard Eliza gasp.

"What is it?" he asked, turning around.

"You have a Mini?" she screeched, her mouth agape.

He nodded. "A frivolous buy, but it's turned out well. Do you like it?"

"I _love_ Mini Coopers," she gushed, opening the passenger door. "I wish I could afford one." And as she almost always did when she mentioned money or purchasing something, her eyes immediately flicked to his face, as if expecting him to recoil in disgust. When he merely made no reaction, she fell silent and got into the car.

The short car ride was silent and, for Darcy at least, completely miserable. He had gone through his entire adolescence and early adulthood without ever feeling more than a passing attraction for a woman. He had known for a long time that he should, and would, marry Anne, and it had never bothered him… until now. Eliza almost made him feel regretful for the life he was going to lead. A life she would never be a part of.

"Um, William? You just passed my house." Eliza's curt remark brought Darcy to a screeching halt. He shifted into reverse, cursing himself.

"So sorry… didn't recognize it in the dark," he said quickly, realizing too late that the sun had barely begun to set. He stopped once again, this time in front of the Bennet home, a quite charming white house with a wide veranda. He hopped out of the car to help Eliza with her bags, averting her eyes in embarrassment the whole time. They reached the front door in silence. It was clear that Eliza did not want to invite him in, but whether this was because she disliked him or whether it was because they could already hear Mrs. Bennet shrieking from inside, Darcy wasn't sure.

"Well, thank you, William. This was very… courteous of you," Eliza said.

"You're welcome," he said. There was another one of those awful pauses. "Well, good night, Eliza."

"Good night, William." And she opened the door and began to walk inside. Darcy turned away from the loud cries of Mrs. Bennet, who was bemoaning Lord knows what, and went back to his car. Despite all his self-reprimands, he couldn't help but smile as he got into his Mini. After all, she liked his car. That had to be reason for hope, hadn't it?

* * *

Eliza could not have imagined a more peculiar end to her day. Sure, she hadn't really expected Jane and Charles to be at his house, but she had completely forgotten about the possibility that William Darcy would be home. And answer the door. And help her with her bags… but really, should she have expected anything less? The moment he opened the door, she knew she was in trouble. How she had gotten from the subway station to Netherfield was still a mystery, but the moment she had stopped walking, her innumerous bags had fallen out of her arms, never to be retrieved gracefully. Their conversation had been strained and full of awfully awkward pauses. She had hoped, foolishly, that once she had said goodbye that he would close the door and she could perhaps kick her shopping bags down the street all the way home. But no, he had noticed her flailing around, trying to pick them up. And yes, he'd had to offer to drive her home. _Well, I suppose he does have one small redeeming quality_, she had thought, when she saw his Mini. If it weren't for the fact that he _drove_ his Mini with arrogance etched into every inch of his face, she might actually consider thinking better of him. Instead, they rode home in complete silence while Eliza contemplated how quickly she could get in touch with Jane. Her conversation with Charlotte was all she could think about, and the more she thought about it, the more urgent it seemed to warn Jane about being reserved around Bingley. It wasn't until she saw a stop sign that she noticed they had completely blown past her house. When she pointed this out to William, he seemed to be totally lost in his own thoughts and mumbled an apology. _What was _he _thinking about?_ she wondered, filled with curiosity. He was probably cursing his impeccable manners that had forced him to drive her home. 

Once they had reached her front door, Eliza couldn't help but outwardly grimace as she heard, "Mr. Bennet! Who is that at the door? Is that Jane? Is Bingley with her? What are they doing? Can you see, Mr. Bennet?"

Her mother's high-pitched voice could be heard from a mile away. Although she knew she shouldn't care about Darcy's opinion, the thought that he was horrified and yet keeping it safe behind that cool face of his was almost unbearable.

"Well, thank you William. This was very…" she paused. What had it been? It hadn't exactly been _kind_. "…courteous of you," she finished. She desperately hoped that he would take her not inviting him inside as a sign of kindness, and not bad manners.

"You're welcome," he replied in that deep, British voice of his. And then came one of those dreadful pauses that seemed to litter every single one of their conversations.

"Well, good night," he finally said.

"Good night, William," she said quickly, and immediately began to go inside. The sight of her mother standing on the living room couch and peering out the window greeted her.

"Mother!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Lizzie, it's only you," Mrs. Bennet said, sounding rather disappointed. "I couldn't quite see, I thought it was Jane."

Eliza just growled in her throat and went upstairs. She had tired of the thought of Jane and Bingley in the space of one day. It will never work, she thought impetuously as she sat down on her bed. Bingley, for all his goodness, was still a wealthy British gentleman who lived at the behest of his friends and family.

_Oh, what am I talking about?_ she thought. _I'm being too cynical. Love has conquered greater obstacles before. If Bingley loves her, he'll just have to tell his sisters and Darcy to bugger off. _However, she still very much wanted to warn Jane about being too "friend" and not enough "girlfriend." Charlotte had made a very good point, even if Eliza hadn't wanted to admit it at first. And while she was at it, she might as well try to convince Jane that the Bingley sisters and Darcy were not as enthused about the relationship as she seemed to believe.

Eliza unpacked her shopping bags, rehearsing what she would say to her sister. She was interrupted, much to her chagrin, by the arrival of Tom.

"Oh, Eliza, I shall be distraught when you leave," were the first words out of his mouth as he waltzed through the door. He kissed her hand and then sat down on Jane's bed.

"I'll only be gone during the day," she said shortly. Her internship wasn't for two weeks and yet he seemed unable to talk of anything else.

"I _know_, but my internship here ends right when yours begins! I cannot trespass on your parents' hospitality any more after that," he said, gazing at her.

Eliza rolled her eyes; he had been doing nothing _but_ trespassing on their hospitality since he had arrived. She was spared answering him by the ringing of his cellphone.

"Hello? Oh! Lady Catherine, what an honor," Tom gushed into his phone. Eliza turned, somewhat intrigued by this Catherine person.

"Oh!" Tom gasped suddenly, his hand covering his mouth. "How wonderful! I cannot believe I didn't know! How rude of me Lady Catherine, a thousand apologies. I will visit him at once!" Eliza raised an eyebrow, blatantly eavesdropping.

"Oh, well then of course, I will wait. I wouldn't want to intrude. Yes, Lady Catherine. I will make his acquaintance the first chance I get. How exciting!" But then his face turned more serious. "Well, yes of course Lady Catherine. Yes, I understand. If he is related to you, how could he be anything else? Thank you, Lady Catherine. Best wishes to Anne," he said, and then hung up. He then jumped off his bed with a grin like a kid in a candy store.

"Eliza, Lady Catherine has just told me the most extraordinary thing," he said, taking her hands in his own. "She has a nephew currently residing right here in Long Island. Guess who it is?"

Eliza shrugged.

"It is none other than Sir William Darcy!" he nearly shouted, shaking her hands up and down.

This was certainly not what Eliza had expected, but now that she heard it, it made sense. Darcy seemed every bit the proud, aristocratic Englishman… yes, it made perfect sense. But the thought of Tom rushing over to Netherfield and embarrassing not only himself but _her_ was horrifying. Anything that embarrassed the Bennets embarrassed Jane, and she just knew that Darcy was keeping track of it all. She could just picture him telling Bingley all the disgraceful things that Jane's family had managed to accomplish. She could also see Caroline snickering and laughing at Tom… and even worse, snickering and laughing at Eliza for having such a fool be in love with her.

"I told Lady Catherine I would visit him at once, but she, in her infinite wisdom, told me to wait until the next dinner party and introduce myself then, so that you and your fine family will be able to accompany me," Tom was saying.

_Oh God no!_

"Really? I think you should go visit him now!" Eliza immediately said. "He's home, I just saw him. I think he would appreciate it."

Tom just chuckled. "Oh Eliza, always looking out for me. You are so wonderful! But Lady Catherine is never to be argued with. She knows how these things must be done."

Eliza sighed, and then cringed as Tom reached in and pecked her on the cheek. He then bounced from the room, shouting to Mr. Bennet that the gracious Darcy was Lady Catherine's nephew.

Eliza slumped onto the bed. She had never been so worried in her entire life. She wanted Jane to be happy so badly, and wanted to have faith that Bingley would follow his heart rather than fall prey to his friends and family. But she just couldn't be sure.

The evening past peacefully without word from Jane, which Mrs. Bennet took to be a sign that she and Bingley were out having a very good time. Tom, who yet again had been invited to stay for dinner, regaled them all with stories about William Darcy, and how gracious and generous he seemed to be. He also droned on about how sorry he was that he had felt ill will toward Darcy when he had asked Eliza to dance. He would apologize when he next saw him, most definitely.

It was around eleven when Eliza finally went to bed. Turning off her light, she fell against her pillows, exhausted. Her eyes were just fluttering closed when her phone rang.

"Hello?" she mumbled.

"Hi, Lizzie." It was Jane. Eliza sat up; her sister sounded horrible.

"Jane? What's wrong? Where are you?" Eliza demanded.

There was a pause. "I'm in the hospital."


	6. Staying Over

Chapter Six – _Staying Over_

"It's acute appendicitis. After the surgery, I would recommend she not move for a few days."

Just minutes after receiving Jane's phone call, Eliza and her parents had rushed to Mount Sinai Hospital to find Charles pacing furiously in front the room where Jane lay. He immediately burst out into apologies and explanations; they had been having a late dinner after seeing a show when Jane complained of a pain in her stomach. It wasn't long before she was doubled over her filet mignon, and Charles had rushed her to hospital. While the Bennets thanked him, the doctor seeing to Jane came out to greet them.

"What, stay here in the hospital?" Mrs. Bennet screeched. "I won't hear of it!"

"Mom, she shouldn't be moving all the way back to Long Island," Eliza said with a sigh.

"But this hospital is so far and lonely. She needs to be around family!"

"Mrs. Bennet, with all due respect, Jane is going to need at least a week to recover. Her movement should be limited," the doctor cut in.

"My apartment is only a few blocks away," Charles suddenly spoke up. He had been sitting on a bench, looking fraught with worry, but his eyes lit up when he made the suggestion. "Please, let me be of service."

The suggestion also lit up the eyes of Mrs. Bennet. A shaky smile spread across her face as she wrapped poor Charles into a hug.

"Oh, Charles, what would we do without you! That is so generous of you," she wept into his curly hair.

"Please, it is the least I can do," his muffled voice came through. "If it's alright," he added, looking to the doctor.

"It's better than Long Island," the doctor conceded. "I'll leave you to make arrangements," he said, and then went into Jane's room.

"Oh, Charles, thank you. I couldn't stand the thought of Jane staying here in this death place… you are too generous, really, how can we ever thank you?" Mrs. Bennet babbled. Charles blushed and shook his head.

"Please, Mrs. Bennet, it is quite alright. We have a very comfortable guest suite, so Jane will be able to rest."

"We?" Eliza asked warily.

Charles looked up at her, looking thankful that someone else was speaking.

"Oh, yes… Darcy and I share the penthouse… well, actually, it is _his_ penthouse, I pay for a very small part of it."

"And he won't mind?" Eliza asked, even more warily. Darcy did not seem like the kind of man to be so hospitable.

"Not at all! He'll most likely want to stay on Long Island, actually."

"So it would just be you and Jane?" Mrs. Bennet blurted out with far too much excitement.

Charles blushed again. "Yes, it would. Is that alright?" he asked, suddenly looking apprehensive.

"Of course!" Mrs. Bennet burst out before anyone else could say no. "Jane will find your company to be very comforting, I'm sure." Eliza audibly groaned at her mother's lack of discretion, and had to turn away "coughing".

"I don't know, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet interjected, sounding concerned.

"You're right, Mr. Bennet, it is inappropriate," Charles said hastily. "Perhaps… Eliza, you're welcome to come stay with your sister, if you'd like."

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled at Charles, thankful that he was such a gentleman.

"I'd love to! If you have enough room, that is," she added.

"You can stay in Caroline's room. I'm sure she'll want to stay at the beach," Charles said, returning her smile.

"Oh, pish posh, Eliza doesn't need to go! Jane will be fine with Charles," Mrs. Bennet immediately began to argue.

"Let it go, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet said in a soft tone. "You are very hospitable, Charles," he said to Bingley with a warm smile.

"Yes, thank you so much, Charles… it'll only be for a few days," Eliza added.

Charles waved their thanks away. "It's the least I can do," he repeated. "Excuse me, I'll go call the housekeeper to make up the guest suite," he said, and then walked away to make the phone call.

"Mother, you're shameless," Eliza chided Mrs. Bennet, sitting down on the bench.

"Why couldn't you two just follow along?" Mrs. Bennet trilled. "Jane could have had Bingley all to herself! That would have clinched it!"

"Oh, please, Mrs. Bennet. It's obvious the boy is completely in love with her," Mr. Bennet said, also sitting down.

"Do you really think so?" Mrs. Bennet said happily, looking after Bingley, who was just about out of sight. "Oh, what a sweet boy! And what a wonderful son-in-law he'll be! Oh, dear Jane, how happy she'll be! A penthouse in Manhattan, a town house in London… how fabulous!"

As Mrs. Bennet chattered on, Mr. Bennet leaned into Eliza.

"At least she's not talking to us."

* * *

Next day, Eliza stood in the front hall with two suitcases: one for her, and one for Jane. Tom stood by her side, and while he rhapsodized about the pain and anguish he was feeling over her departure, Eliza smiled to herself. Not only was she getting away from Tom, but she was finally going to be able to see Jane and Charles up close, without the influence of Darcy or Caroline. At first she had been worried that, upon hearing that Jane would be staying with Charles _alone_, William and Caroline would be packed and leaving Netherfield within the hour. But as it turned out, and as Charles had repeatedly assured her, William and the Bingley sisters were going to be staying in Long Island. Caroline had already gone to visit Jane in the hospital, bringing her a large bouquet of garish flowers and bemoaning Jane's situation for about an hour before leaving for a manicure.

Eliza had barely left the hospital; Jane had never really been sick before, and she'd always had a fear of hospitals. Eliza couldn't bear the thought of Jane lying in the hospital bed all alone, even if it was for only two days. Her sweet, vulnerable sister had looked so pale with all those tubes sticking out of her. It had been awful.

Around about ten, a yellow taxi pulled up in front of the house, and with one last peck from Tom and one last glare from her mother, Eliza left for Manhattan. The drive was easy and the weather was beautiful, so Fifth Avenue was packed. The driver made his way to the curb as they pulled up to an elegant, prewar building with a white façade. Eliza thanked the driver and was barely out the door before Charles was bounding up to her, retrieving the suitcases from the trunk. She smiled at him as he cheerfully led her into the building and to the elevator. They made small conversation, mostly about Jane, who was tired but very alert and watching a movie in bed.

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," Eliza said with a chuckle.

"Yes. But the doctor said to keep her in bed, no matter how strong she looks. And she shouldn't be eating many solid foods, not until a few days from now, anyway…"

As Charles chattered on about the various things the doctor had said, Eliza couldn't help but smile. Jane had done what Eliza had always somehow failed to do: find a kind yet passionate man who would take care of her even when she was ill and had to be spoon-fed Jell-o. _Now that's love_, Eliza thought, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

The elevator opened on the 27th floor to a small, well-lit lobby. Charles put down the suitcases and opened the door, and when Eliza walked inside, that twinge turned into a blow. The front foyer was a circular room with a dark, rich wood floor and a very grand staircase. Charles led her up the stairs and down a corridor, at the end of which stood white double doors. He knocked lightly before beckoning Eliza in.

"Lizzie!" was the enthusiastic greeting that came from the bed. Jane sat up, smiling happily at her sister.

"Lie down, Jane, you heard the doctor," Charles pleaded futilely as Eliza bounced over and wrapped her sister in a hug.

"Oh, Lizzie, you didn't have to come," Jane said even as she grinned.

"What? But Mom insisted!" Eliza said with a laugh. Jane giggled, but then winced and placed a hand on her stomach.

"Now will you lie down?" Charles said, appearing at Eliza's shoulder. Jane smiled and settled back in the pillows.

"Yes, doctor," she said. Charles shook his head, but bent down and kissed her forehead. Eliza couldn't help but smile; already it seemed like the lack of Darcy and Caroline's presence was having a good effect on the couple.

"Come, Eliza, I'll show you your room," Bingley said, turning to her. Eliza winked at her sister before following Charles out of the room.

"She's looking well," Eliza said, unable to keep the relief out of her voice.

"Yes, she gets cheerier every hour, it seems. But the doctor said to let her rest still, no matter how energetic she feels. Plus there's a pill she has to take every four hours, or else the pain comes back. That tends to knock her out for a bit," he said with a chuckle.

They stopped in front of a lovely, spacious room with white walls and a plush blue carpet. Eliza's suitcase sat on the canopy bed's cerulean satin sheets, slightly hidden by the fine white netting.

"What a charming room," Eliza commented as she walked in.

"It's Caroline's. She said you're welcome to anything you might need," Charles replied.

Eliza almost laughed; she was sure that Caroline, wherever she was, was sick to the stomach from the thought of Eliza using _anything_ of hers.

"I've told her time and again that it technically is a _guest_ room, but she's made so many personal touches that it _is_ more like her room," he went on. Eliza subtly raised an eyebrow as she glanced around… she certainly couldn't see any "personal touches" unless you counted the slight lavender scent and air of pomposity. But she smiled and thanked Charles, who told her lunch would be served in an hour before hurrying back to Jane. Eliza began to unpack her few clothing items and toiletries, thinking with amusement on Jane and Charles. Maybe this time away from Netherfield and Long Island would finally cement their relationship. She certainly hoped so.

After putting her toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom, Eliza walked back to Jane's room. She found her sister sitting up in bed, watching one of her favorite movies, _Love Story_. Eliza groaned loudly as she came in and sat down in a comfy armchair.

"Oh, be quiet, Lizzie," Jane scoffed, turning up the volume.

"I just don't understand the appeal of this movie," Eliza launched into her usual rant. "I mean, she falls deathly ill and then she _dies_."

"It's romantic!" Jane cried.

"That's not _romantic_," Eliza countered. "Romantic is living and being together and having lots of sex. It is not having the love of your life die at twenty years old."

"Oh Lizzie you wouldn't know romance if it slapped you in the face," Jane said with a smile.

"As long as I'm _alive_ to not know it," Eliza said. Jane shook her head and continued turning the volume up.

"Now _Full Metal Jacket_… there's a romantic movie," Eliza mused.

Jane laughed. "Lizzie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Eliza turned to her sister and grinned. "Me, too."

* * *

After eating a light lunch – for Jane that meant some soup and more Jell-o – Charles fussed about until Jane finally agreed to take a nap. After pondering going out for a walk, Eliza decided it was too hot and Charles recommended that she check out the library.

"Will has the most amazing book collection – you should see his estate in England… the library is absolutely remarkable," he was telling her as they walked to the third floor of the apartment. Turning a corner, Eliza found herself in a large, airy room lined with tall bookshelves. Despite herself, her jaw dropped open at the sheer amount of books.

"And it's bigger than this one?" she practically squeaked.

"Ten times bigger," Charles said with a smile at her delight.

"Wow," she breathed as she walked along the bookshelves… as a kid, she had loved to sit curled up in her father's study where he kept all his books. She would just sit and read while he worked; it was certainly what influenced to her to study anthropology, considering she read everything from history texts to law books to Shakespeare to scientific studies. She had loved sitting there and wondering why and how people do what they do, think how they think, and act as they act. She smiled as she paused in front of one bookshelf; all the books were organized alphabetically by author, just as she had organized her father's books one summer. It had been a massive undertaking, to be sure.

"All these he picked out on his own… the library in England has been there for generations. Crazy fellow, organizing them all perfectly by author," Charles chuckled.

Eliza smiled slightly, her heart inexplicably skipping a beat.

"Does he travel much?" she asked.

"Oh yes… well, he used to, I suppose. After college, when his father died, he took two years off and traveled around to all the great museums. He majored in art at Oxford, you know."

"Yes, he told me… how old is he?" she asked, trying to be subtle.

"Twenty-six," Charles answered. "Seen a lot, though. After he takes over his father's firm, I'm afraid he won't be able to travel as much as he used to."

Eliza fell quiet, but she had just remembered something Darcy had said: "_But I studied art at Oxford, much to my family's chagrin."_ So, old Monsieur Haughty himself had been a rebel? She couldn't picture it… she wondered whether he really wanted to study law and take over the family business… definitely, she thought. That sounded like a grand tradition, something right up his alley. But she couldn't help but feel a small bit of grudging respect for him not just for studying art but taking two years to travel. _Yeah, of course he did, _she then thought, _because he's got the money and power to be frivolous. _And with that, the bit of respect was gone.

Charles left Eliza while she continued to peruse the large room. She eventually settled on what looked like an ancient copy of Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and carefully took it to Jane's room, who was still sound asleep. She curled up again in the large armchair next to Jane's bed and gently opened the book and began to read.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully; Jane slept until five, and Eliza kept her company until Charles joined them for dinner. Noting that they may want to be left alone, Eliza slipped out of the room after dinner and went back to her own room. She called her parents and gave them the report: Jane was doing well, and yes, Charles still seemed madly in love. After the phone was passed around to nearly every family member, Eliza hung up and changed into her pajamas. Treading quietly to Jane's door, Eliza found that Charles was gone and so she walked in.

"Lizzie, you didn't have to leave," Jane said, blushing all the same, as her sister came in.

Eliza laughed. "That's alright, I was only too happy to do so." She sat on the edge of Jane's bed and smiled. "He seems very happy with you here."

Jane smiled. "Oh Lizzie… he's wonderful, isn't he?"

"He certainly is." She paused. "How do you feel?"

Jane shrugged. "Alright. Weak… tired. My stomach still feels strange."

Eliza nodded. "Well, I talked to everyone earlier and they all say hello. Oh, and Mom says to make sure you're putting on concealer every day because sometime you get dark circles under your eyes."

Jane laughed.

"And Lydia said that if you aren't vomiting, you should be making out with Charles 24/7."

Jane laughed again, only to wince and lean back.

"Oh, Lizzie … you were the worst person to come, you make me laugh too much," she complained jokingly.

Eliza chuckled. "Sorry, love. You should be sleeping anyway… I'm beat, too."

Jane rolled her eyes but slid under the covers. "Yes, Mom," she said.

Eliza smiled and patted Jane on the head. "Good night, dear."

"G'night, Lizzie," Jane murmured even as her eyes slid closed. Eliza turned off the lights and closed the door, and then walked back to her room. Slipping into the satin sheets, Eliza thought she could certainly get used to this as she, too, drifted asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Eliza woke around eight to find sunlight streaming through the windows. Disconcerted, it took her a few moments to realize where she was. Literally sliding out of the satin sheets, she brushed her teeth and then went to check on Jane, who was still sleeping. Her stomach growling in hunger, she padded down the stairs, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes. She was working on a particularly stubborn fleck of eye dust when a voice stopped her stone cold.

"Ah, Eliza, good morning."

Opening her eyes, Eliza found herself in the breakfast room being stared at by four of the most dreaded people she could think of: Caroline Bingley, her sister and her husband, and worst of all, William Darcy. They were all sitting, immaculately dressed, around the table sipping coffee and eating breakfast. And there she stood, in her pink-striped pajama pants and white tank top, her hair a mess and her eyes full of crust. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to smile.

"Oh, Caroline… hi," she managed to say. She could've sworn she saw Caroline's lips twitch into an evil smile. "I didn't realize you would be coming," Eliza continued, meeting Caroline's gaze with an icy one of her own.

"Oh we couldn't let Jane stay in this apartment all alone!" Caroline exclaimed. "Poor girl."

"I'm here… Charles is here," Eliza couldn't help but blurt out. "I mean, too many visitors might be too much for Jane right now," she added, easing her face into a smile.

Caroline smiled as well, except it did nothing but make her look even more like an overgrown bat.

"Well, I'm sure she won't mind a few friends," she said. She then cocked her head. "I hope my room is to your liking?"

"Oh, it's fine. Very lovely," Eliza said, still reeling in the shock of seeing the four of them just sitting there. She couldn't bear to look at Darcy; it would be a miracle if he wasn't steaming from the impropriety of her standing in _his_ breakfast room in nothing but her pajamas. "Were you going to stay? Because I can't certainly…"

"Oh no, not at all. We're just here for the day," Caroline said.

Just then, much to Eliza's relief, Charles emerged from the kitchen carrying a hot skillet.

"Eliza! You're up… I guess I don't need to tell you we have company," he said with a smile. "Sit down, I'll get you some coffee."

"Oh, well maybe I should…" she started to say, gesturing to her pajamas.

"Nonsense. Sit down… would you like an omelet?" he asked even as he walked back to the kitchen.

"Oh… sure, if you're making them, thanks," she said, still determinedly keeping her eyes away from Darcy. She sat down at the table, sitting cross-legged like she usually did. Charles waltzed back in and placed a large mug of coffee in front of her, interrogating her about what kind of omelet she wanted. Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, leaving a very uncomfortable silence behind him. Darcy was hidden behind the paper, and Caroline and her sister were speaking softly between themselves. Eliza settled for sipping her coffee silently. It was an excruciating six minutes until Charles came back in, setting a plate in front of Eliza and then sitting down himself. He made some valiant attempts at small talk until he finally fell silent as well. The only sound for several minutes was the clatter of silverware until Charles once again cleared his throat.

"Ah, Will, this will please you. I've found someone else who finds as much pleasure in your library as you do," he said.

Eliza nearly choked on her egg; she took a huge gulp of milk, praying that Charles wouldn't continue. Darcy flipped part of his paper down to look inquisitively at Charles.

"Really," he said in that deep, bored voice of his.

"Yes," Charles said with a grin. He then pointed his fork at Eliza. "Miss Bennet here was positively giddy over your collection."

"I didn't touch anything!" Eliza immediately blurted out. "I mean, I did take a copy of Midsummer, but I put it back in its place."

But Darcy remained silent, his brow arched, as he surveyed Eliza. His gaze was unsettling; he didn't look angry, nor did he look arrogant. He merely looked… interested.

"You're studying anthropology," he finally said; it wasn't really a question, but Eliza nodded anyway.

"You should look through the library more thoroughly. You would find some things that would interest you," he went on.

"Thanks… I'd like to," Eliza said, feeling slightly more at ease.

"I've spent a lot of time collecting those books," he said, a little quieter.

"I told her about Pemberly's library, although no explanation can give it justice," Charles interjected.

"Oh, I adore your library in Derbyshire!" Caroline exclaimed. "I could spend days in there just looking at all those books."

"That's the product of several generations. Even I haven't seen all those books," Darcy said, his tone a little icier.

"Sounds incredible," Eliza murmured; Darcy's eyes flickered up to hers, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, Eliza saw him smile. But in a blink of the eye, it was gone, and he was once again hidden behind the newspaper.


	7. The Duel

Chapter 7 – _The Duel_

"Could you believe it? She was just standing there, in her _pajamas_! How horrifying!"

Once Eliza had (quickly) eaten her breakfast and hurried back upstairs, Caroline had launched into an absolute tirade. Will certainly couldn't argue with the impropriety of Eliza coming to breakfast in only her night things, but he also couldn't argue that it hadn't brightened up an otherwise dull morning. The sight of her standing in _his_ apartment, her face clean and fresh, probably would not leave his thoughts for quite some time. He may have to move.

"Get _over_ it, Caroline," Charles said for the hundredth time. "Not everyone gets up wearing a Dolce and Gabbana suit. Besides, she didn't know you were coming. Nor did I, for that matter."

"We wanted to surprise you," Caroline replied. "It was Will's idea."

Will jerked out of his stupor and looked at the others. He nodded to confirm that yes, it had been his idea to come, for several reasons, the most important of which, he kept reminding himself, was to make sure Charles wasn't constantly at Jane's side. He was convinced that this relationship with Jane could only end in disaster, and the sooner Charles broke it off, the better. Not to mention that, especially after this morning, Will himself wanted to get away from the Bennets as soon as possible.

Finally, Caroline decided to go upstairs to visit with Jane, leaving Charles and Will alone at the breakfast table for their usual morning discussion of the news. Charles, however, did not seem so keen on this conversation, and after a few minutes of bantering about stock numbers, he smiled at Will.

"You should have seen Eliza in your library, Darcy," he said. Will put down the newspaper and stood to put his plate by the sink. Undeterred, Charles stood as well and followed him.

"I never thought anyone could like that library as much as you, but she certainly comes close," he continued. Will groaned slightly in his throat; ever since Charles had first mentioned it, he had been doing his best _not _to picture Eliza in his library. It was his favorite place to be when he was in the States, and considering he was attempting to block all thoughts of Eliza, he did not want to think of her every time he went in there.

Charles sighed and leaned against the counter, looking at Will. "Will, I know I'm pretty much your only friend here in America, and I know I haven't been around a whole lot ever since I met Jane. But it wouldn't kill you to branch out a little… you and Eliza have a lot in common, you're just too stubborn to see it."

"Charles," Darcy finally said, "you don't understand. Once I'm done with school, I'm going back home. I have absolutely no desire to keep this place or to stay in New York. And neither do you. You're just not thinking clearly; when we come back her to intern, you'll remember."

"Darcy I'm not asking you to make a lifetime commitment, I'm just saying you could make a friend."

"I have friends at home," Darcy said shortly.

Charles paused; Darcy turned away to load the dishwasher… he didn't want to see the look on Charles' face. That earnest, sympathetic look that made Darcy very uncomfortable.

"I was thinking… I might ask Jane out on a date, a proper date, you know," Charles said suddenly, in a small, soft voice. Darcy turned to look at his friend, feeling sorry for the poor guy. How easily some men can be bewitched by a pretty face, he thought.

"Charles," he began, "imagine bringing her home to your family. The poor girl would be lost. She's a sweet girl, but she doesn't belong with you."

Charles' face crumpled. "You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do," Darcy said resolutely.

Charles nodded, but didn't say anything. Instead, he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Darcy to wonder whether it would take more than his usual powers of persuasion to snap Charles out of this trap.

* * *

After leaving the breakfast room still mortified, Eliza had run back to her room, showered, and put on the best clothes she had brought with her, a knee-length, flared chartreuse sundress. She hated the way these people made her feel, like she had to be on her best behavior at all times. Usually she would just tell them to fuck off, but she was painfully aware that actually being herself would shine a bad light on Jane, who already had enough working against her. And so she scrubbed her face, put on some makeup, and with a broad smile walked to Jane's room, where Caroline and her sister already had Jane awake and eating. 

"Ah, Eliza… fully dressed, I see," Caroline said with a smirk as she walked into the room.

Eliza smiled wider and laughed her best casual chuckle. Instead of replying, though, she walked to Jane's bed and sat down.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Fine," Jane replied. "How are you?" she asked in return, her blue eyes implying a whole other question: How are you doing with the Bingleys?

"Fine," Eliza said sweetly.

"Really?" Jane pressed.

"Really really," Eliza said, fussing with the comforter. "Wasn't it nice of Caroline to drop by? Will Darcy's here, too," she went on, her face starting to cramp from smiling.

"We won't stay long," Caroline interjected. "We just couldn't stand the thought of you lying here all alone."

"Oh, that's sweet… but I'm not alone – your brother's here, and Lizzie," Jane said.

"We'll just stay until dinner," Caroline continued as if Jane hadn't spoken. "Will had to pick up a few things at any rate."

Jane glanced at Eliza quickly, as if to warn her to be nice; Eliza shrugged and looked at her sister innocently. She _was_ doing her best… but then again, it was only noon.

After a small, early afternoon lunch, Caroline finally let Jane rest and went to shop with her sister. Charles was doing some work in the study, and Darcy had seemingly disappeared. Finally able to let her face relax, Eliza returned a few phone calls in the parlor (she'd had six messages from Tom alone while staying there) before deciding to visit the library again. She just couldn't quite keep her mind off it; not just all the glorious antique books and journals, but all the marvelous encyclopedias and history books made her shiver. This was too nerdy to admit aloud, however, and so she hoped she wouldn't be disturbed.

The room was quiet and empty when she entered, and she breathed a sigh of relief. As she ran her fingers along the innumerous book spines, she couldn't help but a feel a morsel of kinship with Darcy; it was clear that he had poured his heart and soul into his book collection, and she practically quivered to think of his library in England. Even if she didn't like him as a person, it didn't mean that she couldn't appreciate, and even respect, the thought and care he put into his library.

Finally coming to a stop on the newest edition of the Norton Anthology, she pulled out the heavy book and collapsed onto the sunny window seat. Casually flipping through the assorted poems, she hummed to herself and read contentedly.

"The Norton – ambitious," a voice broke through her thoughts a few minutes later.

Eliza jerked her head up to see Darcy leaning his long, built body against the door frame. She smiled lightly and shrugged.

"I have my dad's old copy at home, but it's from, like, 1972," she said with a chuckle. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips, and then it disappeared. He stood and walked to a seemingly exact place, ran his fingers along the books for a moment, and then pulled out a thick red book.

"Do you have a favorite poet?" he asked, still looking at the bookshelf.

"Well, if I _had_ pick one… Dylan Thomas," she said. "Or Shakespeare, but that goes without saying."

He nodded lightly, moved an inch or two to the left, and pulled out another book, this one slender and blue. He crossed over to her and placed the blue book in her hands; it was leather-bound and slightly shriveled with age. She carefully opened it and read the title page.

"_Eighteen Poems_, Dylan Thomas… copyright 1934?" she ended in awe, her mouth agape.

"An original copy. My grandfather funded several of his lecture tours here," Darcy replied.

"Wow… your grandfather must have been very important," she said, hoping he didn't detect the sarcasm.

"He was," he simply said. "My grandfather started the most successful law firm in all of England when he was only twenty-four. He didn't have to; my family has controlled Derbyshire since the 17th century. As it was, his younger brother handled the estate while my grandfather lived in London." He abruptly stopped talking, as if he had suddenly realized that he _had_ been talking. He nodded to Eliza, turned on his heel, and left the room. Eliza chuckled under her breath; what a sorry fellow he was. He looked so miserable, and yet somehow managed to make it look like he liked it that way. As if being happy would somehow damage the memory of his proud family line. He and Caroline were a perfect match, she thought with a giggle. She knew that was what Caroline was hoping, at least.

The afternoon went quickly as she made a little tiny dent in the massive amount of books. Around five o'clock, she went to visit Jane, who was sitting up in bed watching TV. They talked for awhile about nothing in particular, until Charles poked his head in to tell Eliza that dinner would be served in a half hour. Without so much as a smile or wink to Jane, though, he poked his head back out and left. Raising an eyebrow, Eliza turned to her sister, whose eyes were resolutely set on the TV.

"What was _that_ about?" Eliza asked incredulously.

"What was what about?" Jane asked innocently.

"He didn't even _look_ at you," Eliza said, her voice rising.

"So?" Jane said with a shrug. Noticing the look on Eliza's face however, her own face softened and she smiled. "Lizzie, he was in here for three hours this afternoon."

Eliza, however, was still bothered. "And you made out, right?"

Jane blushed. "_No_, Lizzie, we did not make out!"

"But you talked, right? Made plans, discussed what you would do when you felt better, that sort of thing?"

Jane shrugged. "Not really."

"Then what _did_ you talk about?" Eliza asked, before her eyes fell on a DVD case resting on the night table. She picked it up and thrust it into her sister's face.

"Jane, please tell me that you and Charles did not watch _The Lord of the Rings_ this afternoon?" she said, her voice rising even higher.

"What? You _love_ that movie!" Jane protested.

"That's not the point! You're feeling better, I can tell, and you and your boyfriend could have been doing a lot more than watching a movie."

"I thought it was the best movie ever?" Jane challenged.

"It _is_ the best movie ever! But again, not the point, dear."

"He didn't seem like he wanted to talk… besides, he's not my boyfriend," Jane said softly, looking down at her fingers. Eliza's jaw dropped; it was exactly as she had feared, but she was shocked all the same. Eliza's thoughts flickered to Darcy.

"That bastard," she murmured.

"Lizzie!" Jane cried.

Eliza looked back at her sister, who suddenly was looking rather distraught. Eliza bit her tongue.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know, I am feeling better," Jane interrupted, her voice suddenly hard and resolute. "Maybe you should call Mom and tell her we'll be home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Eliza asked, shocked. "But I've only been here –"

"Yes, I'm feeling a lot better. Go on, go call her, I'll tell Charles."

The brusqueness with which Jane said this was nothing short of shocking; Jane, who was normally so sweet and calm. Eliza could do nothing but sputter as she stood and left the room. Pausing for a moment on the other side of the door, Eliza mulled over what had just happened. So they _weren't _boyfriend and girlfriend… Charles had just been leading her on! But what made her even sadder was that Jane didn't tell her; they had always confided in each other. She sighed and began walking to her room… Jane was looking and moving so much better that taking her home wouldn't be a horrible thing, but her mother would have a right fit over their coming home so early. But what could she do? Eliza would rather die than force her sister to stay here if she didn't feel comfortable. So, taking a deep breath, Eliza walked into her room, picked up her mobile and called home.

Fifteen minutes later, her ears ringing from the screeching phone call, Eliza walked downstairs to join the others for dinner. Her mother had insisted on coming to pick them up, probably in hopes of convincing them, or Bingley to make them, stay. A knot of dread forming in her stomach, Eliza found, not surprisingly, everyone else already seated at the dining room table. They raised their eyebrows in acknowledgement of her presence; Bingley gave her a small, somewhat shaky smile. Dinner was served, and they ate almost silently, except for a few monologues from Caroline about nothing in particular. Eliza didn't know what to think; she looked at Bingley, who was eating without paying any attention to his sister. She then looked at Darcy, who was receiving the majority of Caroline's attention, but seemed to be doing his best to ignore her. Sure, he was proud and pretty irritating, but was Darcy really so mean as to break up Bingley and Jane? She could imagine him trying to talk Bingley out of it, but Darcy was also, if nothing else, a gentleman, and she had always thought that, at the end of the day, he would still leave the choice up to Bingley.

After dinner, they all adjourned to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst started up a game of cards, Bingley picked up a law journal, Caroline had cornered Darcy on the couch, and Eliza was left awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Would you like to join us, Elizabeth?" Mr. Hurst asked, gesturing to the card table.

But before she could answer, Eliza heard another voice answering for her.

"Oh no, Theo, Eliza doesn't play cards. Eliza would much rather read, and expand her mind, than take part in such a silly thing as cards. Here's a book, Eliza, come sit down over here," Caroline said, her dark eyes glittering.

Eliza politely accepted the book Caroline held out for her. "Thank you, Caroline, I would prefer a book. But you're mistaken; I don't just read all the time, I do like most games. Just not cards… I always seem to lose," she said with a small laugh.

Caroline laughed as well as Eliza sat down on the leather armchair. Her interest in taunting Eliza, however, seemed to subside for the moment and she returned her attention to Darcy.

"But tell me, Will, how's your sister? I just love Georgia! I tell you, she is the sweetest, most charming girl! How tall is she now, is she is tall as me?"

"Not quite yet," Darcy answered. Eliza, sneaking a glance from her book, was startled to see his complexion had changed dramatically; his eyes had lit up, and he was smiling ever so slightly. "I'd say she's about Eliza's height."

The mention of her name made Caroline turn back to Eliza. "Oh Eliza, Darcy's sister is the most perfect young woman in the whole world… she plays piano _and_ the flute, paints and draws so well, and is such a wonderful ballet dancer. What else, Darcy? Oh yes, she speaks… what, three? … different languages, top grades in her school, captain of the girls' football team… oh I could go on forever, right, Darcy?"

Darcy nodded.

"It always amazes me that all young women do as much as they do," Charles piped up. Caroline looked at him with her head cocked to one side.

"_All_?" she repeated.

"Yes, all of them. They dance, they play sports, they run school activities, they get into better colleges… it seems I have never met a young woman who does not have a schedule chock full of activities."

"Yes, that's all very true," Darcy chimed in, "but one has to consider that now that _all_ women can do so many different things, they are few who are truly talented at what they do. I would say I don't know more than six women who I would actually call accomplished."

_Accomplished_? Eliza thought incredulously to herself. What year was it, anyway, 1780?

"Neither do I," Caroline immediately agreed.

"Then you must expect a whole lot from someone to deem them _accomplished_," Eliza said, unable to keep quiet.

"Yes, I do expect a lot. True accomplishment has gone by the wayside, and it should be commended," Darcy said to her.

"Yes… a young woman should be fluent in at least one foreign language, be able to read and play music, – and be able to sing if possible – and be able to move gracefully and speak with clarity and politeness," Caroline listed.

"And of course, she must have a thorough knowledge of literature, and be able to carry a conversation," Darcy finished.

Eliza couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Wow… I no longer wonder at your knowing only six such women, I wonder at your knowing _any_."

"Do have so little faith in the female sex that you can't believe one woman could be so well-bred?" Caroline asked, her thin eyebrow raised.

"Not at all… it's just that this accomplished woman of yours seems rather bland – is she not allowed an opinion? Can she play sports? In addition to being able to carry a conversation, is she allowed to debate? Speak her mind?"

Caroline's eyes narrowed; Darcy was looking at Eliza with amused interest. Charles cleared his throat loudly and spoke through the thick tension.

"Tell me, Darcy, have you written to your sister lately?"

Darcy looked away from Eliza and nodded to Charles. "Just yesterday."

"I'm sure she loves hearing from you at football camp. Your letters are always so long and well thought-out."

"Not like you, Charles," Caroline interjected. "Your e-mails are missing half their words, with typos everywhere."

Charles laughed. "My thoughts come so quickly I can't write them fast enough… my letters often end up saying nothing at all."

"You're very modest, Charles," Eliza said to him.

"There is nothing more false than modesty," Darcy said, his eyes slightly narrowed at Charles. "It's nothing more than an indirect boast – you're looking to be praised for having such interesting thoughts that you can't write them fast enough… or you're just trying to get Eliza to think you're cute."

Charles laughed. "All I did was speak the truth," he said, his hands up in protest. "I wasn't showing off; it fit in with the conversation."

"Yes, but you do everything on a whim, Charles. If you were in the car, ready to leave, and a friend asked you stay, you would, even if it was inconvenient. Then if he asked you to stay a month, you probably would do that, too."

"So you're saying Charles is a good friend… my, how horrible," Eliza said sarcastically, with a smile to Darcy. His mouth hardened.

"Thank you, Eliza, for trying to turn my friend's words into a compliment. But I assure you, it wasn't… Darcy would think very highly of me if I just drove away when a friend asked me to stay," Charles said.

"You have to remember, Eliza, that the friend asking him to stay has merely asked, not given Charles an ultimatum. The friend would most likely think no worse of him if he left, but Charles has a very hard time saying the word no," Darcy said.

"So you put no merit whatsoever in obliging a friend who wants to spend a little more time with you," Eliza countered.

"If they see that I am packed and ready to go, then it's rather suspicious that all they want is my company."

"Perhaps they're just being polite."

"Or perhaps they are trying to get something from me."

"Well, it depends on what sort of friend they are; are they close or just an acquaintance?"

"Yes, please, let's define the particulars," Charles broke in, chuckling. "How tall are they, what color is their hair? Have I known them for ten years or only two?" He laughed. "I tell you, Eliza, if Darcy weren't so tall and strong I wouldn't pay him half as much attention as I do. As you can see, he is pretty miserable company."

Charles was laughing, but a glance to Darcy showed that his subject wasn't so pleased. Will had leaned back a little farther in his seat, and his eyes lowered slightly. Eliza checked her laugh, feeling that Darcy may be offended; she may not like him, but she wasn't cruel. However, a few moments later, he raised his eyes back up to Eliza.

"Would you like to put on some music, Eliza?" he asked.

Eliza only laughed; clearly he only wanted to taunt her with his undoubtedly wide selection of composers and violinists she had never heard of, so she didn't reply. He, however, furrowed his brow and repeated the question.

"Oh!" she said this time. "I heard you the first time, but I guessed that you only wanted to make fun of my taste in music, and as I love overthrowing such devious schemes, I didn't answer. But now I've decided to tell you that no, I would not like to put on some music." She smiled. "Go ahead, hate me," she finished jokingly.

"I wouldn't dare," he replied, very seriously. Her smile faded as his dark green eyes bored into hers. What did he mean by it?

Caroline, clearly seething that Eliza was taking up so much of Darcy's attention, suddenly sprang up and smiled rather wickedly at Eliza.

"Eliza, let me show you about the room. Will has done such a wonderful job of decorating," she said, extending her hand.

Eliza looked away from Darcy, put down her book and lightly took Caroline's hand, standing up next to her. Caroline began to lead her toward the piano, glancing over her shoulder every so often at Darcy. She showed Eliza their extensive music collection, and while she leafed through the innumerous sheets of music, Eliza also couldn't help but sneak a glance at Darcy, who was directly in their line of sight. He was gazing at them, but his expression was unreadable, as usual.

"Won't you join us, Will?" Caroline called over to him a few moments later. A smile played at his lips.

"No, Caroline, my joining would only interfere," he replied.

"Interfere with what?" Caroline pressed.

"Well, as I see it, there are only two reasons you would place yourselves at a distance from the rest of us, and with either one, I would certainly interfere."

"What does he mean, Eliza?" Caroline asked. "Surely you know."

"Indeed, Caroline, I haven't the faintest clue. But clearly he's being mean to us, and we should ignore him," Eliza answered.

Caroline laughed. "You're so funny, Eliza! But Darcy, tell us what you mean."

"Surely, Caroline," he replied. "One motive is that you two have very secret matters to discuss, and the second is you have chosen that spot because it displays your figures in the best light. With the first you wouldn't be willing to discuss your matters with me, and if it is the second, I can much better admire you from here."

Eliza's mouth slightly dropped open at this speech; she had never heard anything even resembling sexual innuendo come out of William Darcy's mouth. Caroline, however, flushed and seemed very pleased. Nonetheless, she opened her mouth and said,

"Shocking! Eliza, how abominable is Darcy? How should we punish him?"

Eliza turned and rested her elbows on the piano, pondering Darcy, who still had a very slight smile on his face.

"Tease him. Laugh at him. Close friends as you are, certainly you know how best to go about it, Caroline," she said.

"I certainly don't!" Caroline cried. "We can't laugh at poor Darcy. He's too much of a gentleman to be laughed at."

"He cannot be laughed at? How wonderful for him, and yet what a pity for me. I do love to laugh."

"Caroline gives me too much credit," Darcy spoke up. "Even the best of men can be ridiculed by those whose purpose in life is to seek a laugh."

"Indeed," Eliza answered, "but hopefully you don't take me for one of them. I don't laugh at what is wise or good; I laugh at foolishness, weakness… and apparently you are neither a fool nor have weaknesses."

"It is impossible to have no weakness. But I admit I've spent a good deal of my life avoiding those weaknesses that lend themselves to ridicule."

"Like pride or arrogance," Eliza said with a wry smile, knowing he had no idea he was guilty of both.

"Arrogance is a weakness, yes. But pride – when there truly is superiority of intelligence, pride can be warranted."

Eliza had to bite back a smile. She could hear Caroline's teeth grinding.

"So you've studied Darcy thoroughly, Eliza… what do you conclude?" Caroline said, her voice icy cold.

Eliza smiled wide and said, "I have concluded that William Darcy is completely without fault. He says so himself."

"Certainly I haven't," Darcy argued. "I have my faults – I am, perhaps, too stubborn, at least in the views of others. I hold grudges far longer than I should… some call me resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."

"That is a fault indeed," Eliza mused. "But I can't really laugh at it… resentment isn't terribly funny."

"There are faults in everyone that even the best education cannot overcome."

"And yours is a tendency to hate everyone," she said with a smile.

"And yours is to woefully misunderstand them."

She laughed, although she didn't know why. Caroline, her face nearly purple, declared loudly that she was going to put on music, and then proceeded to drag Darcy along with her. Eliza, feeling tired and needing to pack, excused herself and went upstairs. Once in her room, she plopped onto the bed and mulled over the events of the night.

She had spoken more tonight than she had her entire visit. And she had spoken more to Darcy than she'd ever had before… and all he had done was prove her right. He was proud even of his pride, and the 'good opinion once lost is lost forever' thing fit in so perfectly with his personality. And yet there had been those times when he looked right at her, with those mysterious green eyes, and it was as if he wanted to tell her something else, something more, something _true_, but couldn't.

Shaking her head, she forced the thought of Darcy out of her head and began to pack. Because now she had to worry about something far greater than Darcy or the Bingleys: her mother.

* * *

Darcy could not remember a livelier evening taking place in his apartment. All day, he had attempted to avoid Eliza… after his odd encounter with her in the library that afternoon, though, the day seemed shot. She had just been sitting there, on his window seat, as if she belonged there and had been sitting on that window seat every afternoon of her life. He had, quite un-Darcy-like, made a bit of a fool of himself and hastily left the room. 

He supposed he had to thank Caroline, though, for dragging him in to a conversation. He could tell that the whole evening, Eliza had been doing her best not to laugh aloud or say something sarcastic. Instead, though, she had been witty, if a little bit mocking, and very well-spoken. Despite the few interruptions from Caroline, it was one of the best conversations he had had in recent memory. Her eyes had sparkled the entire time, and he spoke without thinking, a feeling that was rather liberating.

But when Caroline dragged him over to the stereo, and Eliza quickly exited to go upstairs, he was relieved. Even more relieved when he found out, from an oddly-acting Bingley, that Jane and Eliza were both leaving tomorrow. Paying so much attention to Eliza was quite dangerous.


	8. New Acquaintances

A/N: Well, I'm sort of hating myself right now, because I would have had TWO chapters to post but I did something incredibly stupid that I can't figure out how to undo and lost about three pages of the second chapter that I will now have to rewrite – it'll have to wait until I calm down, however, because right now I'm really frustrated that I lost so much. However, here is the first chapter; at first I'd had them as one big chapter but it was just too much.

**Important**: For those of you who have been reading the story since before the last chapter came out, I just wanted you to be aware that I went through and revised the first seven chapters. If you don't want, or don't have time, to re-read the story (both of which are perfectly understandable), here are a few highlights:

First, Charles and Jane are technically not boyfriend and girlfriend. They are just friends.

Second, I didn't really like the way I was portraying Darcy's involvement with Charles and Jane: I want him to be telling the truth later when he says he did it only because he thought Jane wasn't in love with Charles, so I revised it to coincide with that. I also made his objections to Eliza a bit stronger, and threw in a bit about him being resigned to marrying Anne.

And now it's time for what we've all been waiting for: Monsieur Slimeball himself, George Wickham.

Chapter 8 – _New Acquaintances_

"Oh, Charles what a magnificent home! Is that real gold?"

Eliza's heart dropped with a thud as her mother's voice echoed from the foyer. She was ten minutes early, no doubt a minor part in her grand scheme to get Jane to stay. Eliza hurried to throw her last few toiletries into her suitcase, zipped it quickly, and began to run downstairs.

What met her eyes, however, brought her to a screeching halt. At the bottom of the stairs, examining the foyer as if they were at a flea market, was not just Mrs. Bennet, but also Lydia, Cate, and Mary. Charles, Caroline and Darcy at his side (they had not gone back to Long Island the night before as promised), was smiling as genuinely as he could muster, no doubt, as Mrs. Bennet picked up a crystal vase and rapped her fingernails on its surface. Lydia was admiring herself in a gold-plated mirror, while Cate held up a candle muffler over her head, staring at it as if trying to figure out how to use it, and Mary just stood by the door, looking aimless as usual.

"Eliza!" her mother trilled the moment she appeared. "Good, you're ready to go. Is Jane not ready? Oh, she probably doesn't want to leave yet, she can't possible feel well enough."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "She's just finishing packing, Mom."

Mrs. Bennet shot her a glare before turning back to Charles. "I cannot express my gratitude enough, Charles. This really was too kind of you."

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. Bennet," he said, his expression, for once, as unreadable as Darcy's.

"Of course, she was supposed to stay a few more days… I don't know why she thinks she's well enough to move…"

"I've called the doctor, and he said that by now, she should be fine," Charles said.

"Oh… well, then…" Mrs. Bennet trailed off. She flicked a few of the flowers that sat on the middle table idly, obviously unaware of the smirks on the faces of Caroline and Darcy.

"I do hope you'll stay at Netherfield for a long time, Charles," Mrs. Bennet began. "It is such a beautiful house… and such a wonderful community, don't you think?"

Charles politely nodded. "Yes, I daresay it is."

"I know people usually only rent those homes for the summer, but it's not unheard of to stay longer. You could stay here all through the winter if you'd like."

Charles made no response.

"Everyone really loves that you're here, too," she plowed on, undeterred. "You really should stay, it's a wonderful place to live. And a wonderful place to bring up a family, too."

Completely embarrassed, Eliza murmured harshly to her mother, "Okay, Mom, you've made your point."

Mrs. Bennet shrugged and continued to walk about the foyer, running her hands through a crystal light fixture, sending the glass ringing for several seconds.

"And it's a wonderful alternative to the city. Although of course, the city is really no better than Long Island," Mrs. Bennet began again; Eliza buried her face in her hand. "I mean, what does the city have that we don't? Oh, a few more museums and bars… but the people in Long Island are just as cultured, just as intellectual… and in such a nicer, slower-paced place as well. I really don't see why anyone would go back to the city after having been in Long Island, do you Lizzie? I certainly don't…"

Charles was still smiling politely, but Caroline was barely containing her laughter, and even Darcy had allowed a smirk to grace his features. Eliza's cheeks were burning from humiliation; her mother had embarrassed her before, but she had never felt it quite so keenly as this.

"Yes, Mother, that's… great," she said loudly, glaring fiercely at her mother. Mrs. Bennet seemed to take the hint, but it didn't stop her from finding a new subject.

"I must say, I was so distraught when my little Jane fell ill," she said. "She's never really been sick before, you know. She has such a wonderful temperament… don't you agree? And such beauty… most beautiful girl in the whole neighborhood, in all of Long Island I'd even say! Wouldn't you say so, Charles? Yes, my little Jane… of course, my Lizzie is pretty, but it was always Jane who had the suitors! Lots of them, practically lined up at the door! She always turned them down… waiting for something more special, I suppose…" she said, looking meaningfully at Charles.

This was just too much. Eliza could almost feel tears at the back of her eyes, when Jane finally appeared at the top of the steps.

"There you are, dear! We were just talking about you!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. Eliza jumped, and scurried up the stairs to help Jane with her suitcase.

"Just duck and run, duck and run," she muttered under her breath. Jane just chuckled.

"Well, I guess if you're all packed…" Mrs. Bennet said sadly when she saw the suitcase. Jane nodded, kissed her mother on the cheek, and then turned to Charles.

"Thank you very much for letting me stay in your home," she said softly, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"You're very welcome. It was least I could do," he said, his eyes suddenly looking very sad as said goodbye. Eliza sighed at the sight of them, but then went up to Charles as well.

"Yes, thank you so much. I hope we weren't too much of a burden," she said with a smile.

"Not at all," Charles replied. She then reluctantly turned to Darcy.

"And thank you, too. I mean, it is your house, as well," she said, giving him as authentic a smile as possible.

To her surprise, he smiled graciously. "Not at all," he said.

"Will we see you at my sister's dinner party on Sunday?" Mrs. Bennet chimed in. The Bingleys and Darcy looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then Charles nodded.

"Yes, of course."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Bennet cried.

"Okay let's go," Eliza said quickly, grabbing the suitcases and herding her mother and sisters out the door. Once outside, she finally sneaked a glance at Jane, who was looking at the ground but wasn't visibly upset. Eliza's heart fell a little; Jane rarely admitted to being upset, and Eliza didn't feel comfortable pressing her about it. She suddenly remembered her conversation with Charlotte… was she too late?

* * *

The following day, Jane and Eliza were eating their lunch in silence when Cate and Lydia bounded up to them, mischief written all over their faces.

"What do you want?" Eliza asked, her eyebrows raised.

"What, we can't just join our sisters for the mere pleasure of their company?" Lydia asked innocently. Jane and Eliza looked at each other, and then both shook their heads.

"Fine," Lydia said, sitting down next to Eliza. "Mom and Dad told us to come ask you, because otherwise we can't go." She took a deep breath. "Rob and Matt and their band are playing at a club downtown tonight and Dad says we can't go unless you two go." She paused and evaluated her sisters' reactions; Jane seemed to be contemplating it; Eliza, however, looked exasperated, so Lydia launched into whiny mode.

"Oh please, Lizzie, we wanna go _so_ bad, and besides, it wouldn't kill you two to get out, you haven't gotten any in _years_," she said, but one look at Eliza and she knew she'd gone too far. "Plus," she switched tactics, "you know we'll just find another way to go, so you might as well go to keep an eye on us."

Eliza sighed, knowing what her sister said was true. They'd probably just climb out their window or smuggle themselves out of the house one way or another, and she would much rather take them legally. She looked at Jane, who nodded. Sighing deeply, Eliza threw up her hands.

"Alright," she said.

"Yes! Oh thank you, Lizzie, thank you!" Lydia shrieked, throwing her arms around Eliza's neck. Then, beckoning Cate, they fluttered out of the room.

"We'll leave at nine!" she called behind her.

Eliza watched them go with her usual mixture of pity and shame. Why, when Jane, Eliza, and even Mary were level-headed, intelligent human beings, had their youngest sisters turned out to be such flighty, boy-crazy twits?

"Oh, Lizzie, it _is_ better if we just go with them, at least then they won't get into trouble," Jane said, moving closer to Eliza and brushing a piece of hair from Eliza's face.

"Yeah, I know… but are you sure you're feeling alright?" Eliza asked quizzically.

"Actually, I feel great," Jane said with a smile. "It was nice to be in my own bed."

Eliza opened her mouth, but shut it again and smiled at her sister. Last night, Jane had willingly talked to their mother about Charles and hadn't seemed terribly distressed about it, so maybe Eliza was blowing things out of proportion. She supposed she would just have to wait until the following night at her aunt's to see.

That night, all primped and pressed, Jane and Eliza steered Cate and Lydia out the door, after a very long and stern lecture from their father and a "good luck!" from their mother. Jane took the wheel of the black Honda Accord as Cate and Lydia talked excitedly to each other. Eliza slumped in the front seat; sure she loved a good concert as much as – if not more than – the next person, but she would have preferred not having to baby-sit her sisters at the same time. She knew it was going to be an endless job, and she had absolutely no aspirations to enjoy herself.

They parked in a parking garage nearby and walked the short distance to the club, which had a surprisingly long line gathered outside. Lydia pushed her way to the front, yelled her name at the bouncer, who consulted a list and then waved them in. The noise was close to deafening; the band had already started and dozens of people were yelling and screaming in the crowd. To Eliza's chagrin, they bypassed the bar as they followed Lydia, who made no bones about shoving her way through the crowds to get to the front. The band stood on a five-foot-tall stage, and consisted of a lead singer (Rob, as Lydia told her), a guitarist (Matt), a keyboardist, bassist, and drummer. Lydia nor Cate could remember the other members' names, and immediately began to shout out for Rob and Matt, who looked like they still hadn't showered since the last time Eliza saw them. The keyboardist and bassist were obscured by large amounts of facial hair, so Eliza turned her attention to the drummer. To her surprise, he was looking right at her; when their eyes met, he winked and grinned. Eliza felt herself smiling back… he had long, thick blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail, sparkling blue eyes, and a knee-weakening smile. He was exactly what Eliza liked – a hot, and yet hygienic-looking, musician. He continued to look at her periodically throughout the set, grinning each time. Despite suddenly feeling very light-headed, Eliza continued to make sure she and Jane were always right behind Cate and Lydia, cornering them in case they got any big ideas. They didn't seem to be going anywhere, however, as Rob kept leaning down and playing with their hair and winking at them.

The show ended an hour later, and Eliza joined in with the cheering, as they had, in fact, been rather good. Jane yelled over the din that she was going to go bring the car around, but no sooner had she left than Cate and Lydia grabbed Eliza's hands and were pulling her away.

"Where are we going?" Eliza demanded. "Jane's going to get the car, she'll only be a few minutes."

"Oh, we have to go say hi!" Lydia said, her voice hoarse. She led them around the stage and through a back door. They had entered into the dressing room, where the guys were lounging around, drinking (Eliza breathed a sigh of relief) water. Rob and Matt strolled over to say hello to her sisters, while Eliza tried to subtly search the room for the drummer. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen.

After a few minutes of her sisters' high-pitched squeals of delight, Eliza had to firmly tell them they had to leave. The guys seemed a little put out, until the door opened again and another group of gaggling girls entered the room. Eliza seized her chance and grabbed both her sisters by wrist and whirled them around. Unfortunately, in doing so, she rammed headfirst into the person behind her.

"Oh, I am so sorry…" she mumbled, rubbing her head. She opened her eyes, only to find the drummer in front of her, holding his own head.

"All my fault, I assure you," he said, smiling. He had a smooth British accent, and Eliza couldn't help but smile, not entirely noticing her sisters had let go of her and ran off.

"Would you like some ice? Water?" he continued, reaching over and running his fingers lightly over her forehead. Trying to suppress the fluttering in her stomach, Eliza shook her head.

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

He continued to smile. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Eliza Bennet," she replied. "And you?"

He reached for her hand and placed a light kiss on her fingers. "George Wickham."

* * *

"You're quite sure you want to go back?"

"Yes, Will, for the thousandth time, yes."

Darcy and Charles were driving back to Long Island. Charles had seemed in a very strange mood ever since Jane and the Bennets had left, and Darcy wasn't entirely sure it was a great idea to go back. Of course, he himself didn't want to go back, but that was for different reasons.

The Bennets' visit at his apartment had only solidified his ongoing argument with himself against Eliza. Their manners and overall behavior was beyond embarrassing; indeed, he had been most uncomfortable with them perusing his foyer as if it were a museum gift shop. And Mrs. Bennet with her painfully obvious overtures about Netherfield and Jane, and how Bingley should stay… he didn't know how Charles could possibly think he could stomach this forever. Of course, he had to admit to himself, every time he had looked at Eliza, her face had been buried in her hands, the tips of her cheeks pink. It looked as if she was humiliated, and somewhere deep down he had wanted to comfort her, to take her away from all this, where she obviously didn't belong. But that's where it stayed: deep down.

"Look, I've just… got to get this cleared up," Charles said. "She looked upset when she left… didn't she look upset?" he asked agitatedly.

"Sure," Darcy said, sighing. "But Charles, you have to admit, her mother…"

"Jane is _nothing_ like her mother," Charles said forcefully.

"Yes, but tying yourself to a family like that?" Darcy said before he could stop himself. "God, Charles, what would your father say?"

Charles opened his mouth, but shut it again. Darcy knew he couldn't argue with that… Charles, while not close to his father, still clung to every word his father said. Darcy knew he would certainly rather die than let down his father. Charles let out a deep sigh and slumped in his seat. Darcy sighed as well and fell silent. He hated doing this to Charles, but who else would that Charles would actually listen to? He was quite certain that Jane wasn't in love with Charles, but promised to observe them once more Sunday night. If he was still convinced of Jane's neutrality, then he would be forced to make Charles leave. It was just the way of it.

The rest of the ride was silent; Caroline was there at Netherfield to greet them when they pulled up.

"Will I just spoke with your sister," she said as soon as he got out of the car.

"Really?" Darcy replied; he was always pleased to hear mention of his sister.

"Yes, she said she's done for the day now if you'd like to call her."

Darcy nodded, and then walking quickly so as to lose her, he left Caroline behind and went straight to the kitchen. Pouring himself some water, he picked up the phone and dialed his sister's number.

"Hello?" came her sunny, clear voice.

"How dare you talk to Caroline Bingley before you talk to me," he replied.

She laughed on the other end. "I'm sorry, brother, but she called me. I couldn't think of an excuse to hang up in time."

He chuckled. "How are you, Georgia?"

"Good. Better than Hannah, anyway, she broke her ankle today."

"How'd she manage that?"

"I passed her ball when she wasn't looking," came Georgia's succinct reply.

Darcy fake-gasped. "Georgia! That's horrible."

She laughed again. "Oh come on, you know Hannah, she's been trying to overthrow me as captain all year."

"So what else has been happening?"

"Well, we got a lecture today from some stuffy old bugger about sportsmanship."

"I hope you paid attention," Darcy said, smiling.

"I tried!" Georgia protested. "But really all he did was tell stories from his glory days."

"Ah. How very boring," he said in an exaggerated accent, without realizing it. Georgia laughed.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Oh… nothing," Darcy said, burying his face in his hands. "Just something a… person here said."

"Really?" Georgia asked, her voice excited. "Who? I thought you weren't going to talk to anyone there."

"Just… someone."

"Ohhhhhh," Georgia said smugly. "It's a girl, isn't it?"

"Well, if you must know, yes, it is a girl," Darcy said, marveling at how easily his sister could figure him out.

"Who is she?"

Knowing she wouldn't give up until he talked, he said, "Her name's Elizabeth… Eliza. She lives a few blocks away."

"And….?"

"_And_ she's about the only person here worth having a conversation with," he said.

"So you like her?" Georgia asked mischievously.

"_No_," he said emphatically. "She's just… nice to talk to."

"Right," Georgia said. "Oh come on, Will, you can talk to me."

Will paused, evaluating the situation. No, he couldn't deny that he liked Eliza, but telling his sister this would get her too excited, and probably only disappoint her in the end, because nothing could ever come of it. Georgia would probably never even meet Eliza.

"She's funny," he decided on. "And she likes my car."

Georgia giggled. "I _told_ you that was a chick magnet!"

"Hardly," he said. "Besides, Charles and I are likely going back to Manhattan soon."

"So, what, you'll never talk to her again?"

"Most likely," he replied. He could almost see his sister rolling her eyes.

"You're ridiculous sometimes, Will," she said.

"Back at ya."

"Seriously, Will!" she exclaimed. "I don't want Anne _Gumby_ to be my sister, she's boring."

"Her name is Anne _Lundi_, Georgia," he admonished. "And she's… perfectly lovely. You've never really spoken to her."

"How can I when she doesn't speak?"

Darcy shook his head. Georgia was thankfully still young enough to think that even if Will and Anne weren't actually a couple, Will was somehow in love with Anne; she'd figured the truth out eventually, and then would most likely be vehemently against their marriage, but Will hoped that wouldn't be for awhile.

"I don't get why you like her. This Eliza sounds far more interesting," Georgia went on.

"Yes, but she's also _American_. Really, Georgia," he continued in a mock scolding tone, "has Aunt Catherine taught you nothing about upholding the family name?"

"Name, shmame," Georgia said. "That's a bunch of 18th century bullocks and you know it!"

Unfortunately for Darcy, he did know it.

* * *

"So Eliza Bennet, what brings you back to our humble dressing room?" George asked Eliza.

She rolled her eyes lightly and gestured over to her sisters, who were now practically fighting with the newly arrived girls.

"My sisters," she said heavily. "Your bandmates are from our neighborhood, actually."

"Ah, Long Island?" he said.

She nodded.

"Yeah, they talk about it a lot." He paused to smile at her. "Would you like a drink?"

All thoughts of Jane far gone from her mind, one drink turned into two, which turned into three, as Eliza and George sat in a corner by themselves and talked. He had come from England two years ago, auditioned for the band, and was still living with them in a tiny, roach-infested apartment a few blocks away. They went on tour every so often, but didn't really have any big plans for the future. They talked for awhile about NYU, and Eliza's internship. She certainly wasn't keeping track of time, so she wasn't sure how long it had been before her phone rang, startling her.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously, suddenly very aware of how long it had been since Jane left.

"Hey, Lizzie, sorry I'm not there yet, they put the car in the wrong section and it's taking them forever to bring it around, but they said only like another ten minutes… have you tried to call me?" Jane said.

"Er… yeah, I have – do you not get reception in there?" Eliza lied quickly.

"Not very much – I hope you weren't worrying too much."

Eliza's stomach fell in guilt. "Um… no, we figured it was something like that."

"Ok, well I promise I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, we'll be outside."

She hung up, and immediately sprang up. George rose as well, looking worried.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "It's just we were supposed to be waiting outside for my sister." She turned to find her sisters practically groping the other boys; hating herself for being so negligent, she nearly grabbed them by the hair and started marching them out the door.

"Lizzie! We can't leave now, Rob was just…" Lydia started to whine.

"No, we have to meet Jane outside," Eliza said.

"Eliza!"

She turned around at the sound of her name. Shushing Cate and Lydia ahead of her, she found George striding toward her.

"Hey… I'd like to see you again, if I may," he said. _Damn that smile!_ Eliza thought to herself.

"I would, too," she replied; then a thought sprang into her head. _Why not? Everyone else in the world is going to be there_…

"Would you like to come to a dinner party tomorrow?" she asked; the moment she said it, she realized how ridiculous it sounded. "I know it doesn't sound very exciting, but my aunt usually has amazing food, and there's going to be tons of people there, so…"

"You'll be there," George said.

She smiled. "Yes, I will."

"Then that's all the incentive I need," he said. She tried to stay balanced as she gave him the time and directions to her aunt's house. With one last wink, he walked back to the dressing rooms and she walked outside to meet Jane, trying very hard to suppress the grin that threatened to stay on her face all night.

* * *

To those lovely reviewers who asked, college is going splendidly. I'm a freshman, who is utterly and completely undeclared seeing as I have no idea what I want to do. The theatre show I was working on wrapped up nicely, but I don't plan on doing another one next semester.

So hopefully I can bring myself to rewrite the end of the next chapter in a decent amount of time. Finals are this week, so I really can't promise anything, but I'll try. Please review! Last chapter got 200+ hits, so I know more people are out there! Reviews will probably also get me more motivated to keep writing the next chapter, so help a gal out!

Love you all!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	9. Why Would He Lie?

**Chapter 9** – _Old and New Acquaintances_

Sunday dawned bright and very hot; Eliza and Jane had stayed up quite late as Eliza told her sister all about George. Jane immediately predicted that Eliza might have boyfriend-material on her hands, but Eliza denied this, pointing out she had only just met him, and barely knew anything about him. She still couldn't believe she had invited him to dinner, considering her entire family and the whole neighborhood was going to be there – not terribly romantic. But Jane was right when she noted that it would be a nice, non-pressured atmosphere to get to know him a little better.

Eliza had to fight with herself to not ask Jane about Charles; she seemed cheerier than when they had left his apartment, and Eliza had (accidentally) overheard Jane talking to him on the phone Saturday afternoon. She was perplexed, to say the least, but took her cue from Jane and didn't talk about it.

Around four o'clock, Jane and Eliza started to get ready for the party. Eliza spent much longer than usual in front of her closet, until finally Jane reached in for her and pulled out one of her favorite dresses, a v-neck chocolate brown silk dress, with an empire waist and ruffled skirt. Eliza took the dress and thanked her sister; it had been a long time since Eliza had put so much thought into an outfit for the mere purpose of a man. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time.

Jane and Eliza helped each other with their hair; Jane looked stunning as usual in a cerulean strapless silk dress, with her hair swept up. Eliza curled her hair more than usual, and by the time they were ready to leave, was actually quite pleased with her appearance. Unfortunately, so was Tom, who had somehow wheedled his way into coming with them.

"Eliza, you look ravishing," he rhapsodized the moment she walked downstairs.

"Thank you," she answered shortly.

"Of course, tonight is very important, indeed. Sir Darcy, Lady Catherine's nephew will be there," he said, unable to contain his excitement.

Eliza groaned; she had completely forgotten. She was quite sure that Tom just waltzing up to _Sir_ Darcy and introducing himself would only incur Darcy's resentment and contempt, although for once she wouldn't blame him.

"Oh… well I've already met him," she told Tom.

"I know, I'm quite jealous. Do tell me about him… although I'm sure I'll be able to pick him out in any crowd! How dignified and distinguished he must be, being Lady Catherine's nephew."

"Yes, he does rather stick out," Eliza said sarcastically. Tom only laughed.

Soon the entire family, including Mr. Bennet and Tom, squeezed into the car and set off for their aunt's, who lived about fifteen minutes away in an amazingly beautiful home on the beach. The street was filled with cars by the time they got there, so they parked about a block away and walked to the house. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Bennet's sister and her husband, had moved into this brick mansion about five years ago. They had no children, so most of the rooms in the house were rarely used except for the many dinner parties Mrs. Phillips liked to throw.

The house was full when they entered; a quick look around proved that neither George nor the Bingleys and Darcy were there, however. The Bennets broke up and Eliza scurried away from Tom and went to find Charlotte.

"Seriously, Lizzie, you have to try these shrimp," Charlotte said several minutes later after they had been talking about the party and what people were wearing.

Eliza didn't answer; she was too busy arching her neck to look at the door.

"Lizzie, why do you keep looking at the door? Who are you waiting for?" Charlotte asked suspiciously.

"Oh, just… someone I invited," Eliza muttered, suddenly kicking herself for not giving George her phone number so he could at least call if he got lost.

"Would this someone happen to be a _male_ someone?" Charlotte asked.

Eliza blushed, and that was all the reply Charlotte needed.

"Lizzie, you invited a guy to your aunt's dinner party?" she cried.

"Well, I don't know… it just sorta came out," Eliza said, finally tearing her eyes away from the door.

"That's fantastic!" Charlotte said. "Does Tom know?" she asked, mock seriously.

Eliza laughed. "Oh, he'll be heartbroken, I'm sure."

She spent the next few minutes fielding questions about George from Charlotte, who agreed that he sounded just like Eliza's type. She was just about to ask whether Eliza planned on introducing George to Tom when the door opened; Eliza whipped around, but her heart fell a little when she saw only Charles, his sisters, and, of course, Darcy. Unlike the last time they were guests at a neighborhood party, the other guests didn't take much notice of them entering, although Charles was warmly greeted by several people as he made his way through the crowd. Upon seeing Eliza, he smiled genially as usual and asked if she knew where Jane was. She told him the last she saw Jane, she was outside on the deck. He thanked her and immediately went out to the porch. Caroline and her sister found themselves an empty corner, and Darcy seemed very much stuck as he stood by himself at the bar. Eliza considered him for a moment; when Jane had left Charles' upset, she had been rather quick to blame him for Jane and Charles' apparent relationship troubles, but now that they seemed back on track, she wasn't sure what to think of him. Perhaps he had brought about the trouble, but Charles decided on his own to go back to Jane. Perhaps Darcy had had nothing to do with it… perhaps Charles wasn't as in love with Jane as Eliza had liked to think. And, of course, perhaps it was none of her business.

Just then Charlotte was summoned by her father; giving Eliza a quick sympathetic look, Charlotte left Eliza to stand by herself. Eliza sighed and was pondering her next course of action when her eyes suddenly met Darcy's. He gave her slight nod of acknowledgement, and she was about to do the same when she saw Tom appear at Darcy's shoulder. Her stomach fell as she watched Tom clear his throat loudly behind Darcy. Darcy, who was still looking Eliza's way, didn't seem to notice. Tom was not deterred, and cleared his throat again. This time, Darcy's brow furrowed and he turned away from Eliza, who, despite herself, moved closer in case Tom did or said something _too_ ridiculous. Darcy had to look down at Tom, whose head barely came up to his shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Darcy asked, his voice full of that disdain Eliza hated so much.

"Forgive me, sir, for approaching you so boldly, but I must introduce myself. My name is Tom Collins," Tom proclaimed, extending his hand to shake. Darcy paused for what felt like several seconds, and then finally shook Tom's hand, albeit very quickly. Eliza just barely noticed a look of recognition in Darcy's eyes.

"Nice to meet you," he said shortly, beginning to turn away.

"Oh, the honor is all mine, sir. Your aunt speaks most generously of you," Tom went on. Darcy looked puzzled, and turned back to Tom.

"You know my aunt?" he queried.

"Oh yes! I thought you knew," Tom said, looking crushed for only a moment. "Lady Catherine is my patron, she funded my tuition at Yale Law."

"Ah," was Darcy's reply. "She is very generous."

"Oh yes, Lady Catherine is the most charitable. I have almost completed an internship, and this fall she has most kindly offered me an apartment in her building in Manhattan and a job at a prestigious law firm. I don't know where I would be without her!"

Darcy made no reply.

"And between us men, she has even recommended that I bring a lady friend with me when I move in," Tom went on. Eliza gasped and had to turn away; she suddenly had the horrible feeling that she was about to be dragged into this conversation.

"She has told me that marrying early is the best course of action, so that I don't have to be troubled by it later. I'm not entirely sure she'll approve, but my heart is rather set on Eliza there," Tom said.

And there it was. Eliza felt nauseous, not just from the idea of living with Tom, but the fact that he was willing to ask her even though Lady Catherine wouldn't "approve." Darcy was silent for a moment.

"Is that so," he then said, his voice flat.

"Yes. She's so very smart, and so beautiful, don't you agree?" Tom said. Eliza's face burned as Darcy remained silent again. Tom seemed to think he hadn't heard.

"Don't you agree she's beautiful, Sir Darcy?" he repeated. There was another pause.

"Yes, she is beautiful," Darcy finally said. Eliza almost turned around, so curious was she to see the look on his face. Was it her imagination, or had his voice suddenly become sincere? It had to be her imagination.

"Excuse me, Tim," Darcy said suddenly, and Eliza heard him walk away. She started to move, too, but Tom quickly caught up with her.

"My darling Eliza, I just met Sir Darcy. Oh, he's everything Lady Catherine said he would be… polite, noble, so well-spoken…"

As Tom rattled off Darcy's many attributes, Eliza tuned him out and sat down near the fireplace. To her considerable dismay, Mary was playing the piano and singing an Elton John song… although she was quite talented at the flute and violin, Mary was rather lacking when it came to both the piano and singing. Some people in the room were politely listening while others seemed to be talking loudly over her. Mary's flat voice carried over them nonetheless, and Eliza's discomfort was doubled when she saw Darcy standing in the doorway, his face expressionless as he watched Mary play. The party was fast becoming miserable for Eliza; first George not showing, then Tom embarrassing her to no end, and now this. When Darcy's eyes wandered over to her and Tom, she quickly avoided his gaze and jumped up. Leaving Tom on the sofa, she walked over to her father and politely interrupted his conversation.

"Dad, please stop Mary, she's only embarrassing herself," she quietly pleaded with her father. Mr. Bennet nodded and crossed over to the piano while Eliza went back to sit down. When she had played her last chord, Mr. Bennet stood next to Mary and began to clap fervently.

"Well done, Mary, well done, but let the professional play," Mr. Bennet said loudly, referring to the hired piano player in the next room. "You can play some more at home."

This was not exactly what Eliza had wanted her father to say, and sure enough, Mary burst into tears and ran out of the room. Mr. Bennet just smiled and laughed and rejoined his friend. Eliza slumped into the sofa as Tom continued to talk, suddenly wishing this party was over as soon as possible.

* * *

Darcy regretted his agreement to come to the Phillips' dinner party almost the moment he had entered their house. Charles ran off to find Jane, and Darcy was especially not in the mood to be around Caroline, who had secluded herself and her sister from the rest of the party. He was resigned to the fact that he would probably be standing by the bar by himself all night; letting his eyes roam, they not so unexpectedly fell on Eliza, who was standing by herself in the doorway. Her eyes met his, and he quelled the sudden jolt of excitement in his stomach and nodded to her. Instead of returning the nod, however, her eyes suddenly bulged slightly at something next to him. He frowned and was going to give her a questioning look when he heard a loud sound behind him, something like a cat hacking up a hairball. He turned slightly to find that most dreaded of creatures, the young man who had been glued to Eliza's side that night at Netherfield, staring up at him with avid excitement. Darcy looked down at him, for the man barely reached his shoulder, and furrowed his brow.

"Can I help you?" Darcy asked, disgusted with the man's inability to start the conversation himself.

The young man smiled, his head bobbing so enthusiastically it looked like it was about to fall off. "Forgive me, sir, for approaching you so boldly, but I must introduce myself. My name is Tom Collins," he said, extending his hand.

It _was_ rather bold, and Darcy paused before shaking Tom's hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said shortly, and started to edge away, assuming the conversation was over.

"Oh, the honor is all mine, sir," Tom said loudly, trying to sidle up next to him. "Your aunt speaks most generously of you."

Darcy stopped, and turned back to Tom. "You know my aunt?" he asked, curious as to how so low a human could even cross his aunt's radar.

"Oh yes! I thought you knew," Tom said sadly, as if his hopes and dreams had been crushed. "Lady Catherine is my patron, she funded my tuition at Yale Law."

Ah, of course, his aunt had mentioned it. A young man she was breeding to eventually be Darcy's second-in-command. For the first time in his life, Darcy highly doubted his aunt's judgment.

"Ah," he said. "She is very generous."

"Oh yes, Lady Catherine is most charitable. I have almost completed an internship, and this fall she has most kindly offered me an apartment in her building in Manhattan and a job at a prestigious law firm. I don't know where I would be without her!" Tom exclaimed.

Where would any of us be without dear Aunt Catherine? Darcy thought sarcastically to himself. He trusted his aunt, of course, and loved her the proper amount, but he attempted to limit his time spent with her.

"And between us men, she has even recommended that I bring a lady friend with me when I move in," Tom went on. Darcy sighed; that certainly sounded like his aunt. She was still disappointed that he hadn't married Anne right out of college, and had only forgiven his two years of travel because of his father's death. But now, with only one year of his law school left, the pressure would be on.

"She has told me that marrying early is the best course of action, so that I don't have to be troubled by it later. I'm not entirely sure she'll approve, but my heart is rather set on Eliza there," Tom was saying.

This brought Darcy back the present. He almost laughed; Tom and Eliza? He had assumed, of course, that Tom was in love with her after the party at Netherfield, but he felt that Tom was in for a big disappointment if he asked Eliza to live with him. He may not know her that well, but Darcy knew her well enough to know that Eliza could never be with a man like Tom… he looked over to her; her back was to them, and she seemed to be looking nowhere in particular. He pictured her with Tom for a moment; the thought was beyond ridiculous, but it also made him beyond jealous.

"Is that so," he said flatly.

"Yes. She's so very smart, and so beautiful, don't you agree?" Tom said. Darcy didn't reply at first, suddenly jealous that Tom could just be open with his emotions and actually tell Eliza that he thought her smart and beautiful. Tom seemed to think he hadn't heard the question.

"Don't you agree she's beautiful, Sir Darcy?" he repeated.

Darcy turned his eyes once more to Eliza, still standing in her coffee-colored silk dress, and he just couldn't deny it.

"Yes, she is beautiful," he replied. Feeling Tom's hot breath on his fine suit, and thinking of him with Eliza, suddenly became a little too much for Darcy. Why was he standing here talking to this imbecile?

"Excuse me, Tim," he said curtly, and then left the living room. He crossed through the kitchen to stand outside on the deck; dusk was settling and the deck was nearly empty, save for a cluster of people a few yards away from him. In the middle stood Jane and Charles, surrounded by four young men and women. Charles seemed to have forgotten his purpose to get Jane alone to talk, and Jane, while not ignoring Charles, was paying more attention to the group. That was it, Darcy thought. He was sick of this, of giving Jane the benefit of the doubt. She was a nice girl, and probably meant no harm, but Charles couldn't stay here when she was so plainly not in love with him. Darcy would have to speak with him tomorrow, or tonight if he could.

Drifting back inside, Darcy caught a glimpse of Eliza sitting on a sofa next to Tom, who was talking nonstop. Eliza was sitting straight, looking away into the corner of the room. Darcy walked into the room, hanging back by the door frame, and it was all he could do to not walk right back out. One of Eliza's younger sisters was sitting at the piano, playing and singing rather awfully. Eliza was looking toward her with a mixture of alarm and pity on her face, paying no attention whatsoever to Tom. Darcy's insides cringed; he was almost thankful to the Bennets, for anytime he felt himself dangerously attracted to Eliza, they seemed to appear and remind him to put her out of his head.

Eliza suddenly stood and walked over to her father, who was standing by the window deep in conversation. Darcy watched her gently interrupt him and then whisper something in his ear; he nodded, and she returned to the couch. Mr. Bennet then walked over to the piano, and when the girl had played the last note, he clapped loudly, causing the room to watch him in hushed curiosity.

"Well done, Mary, well done, but let the professional play," Mr. Bennet said loudly, as the music from the hired piano player drifted in from the next room. "You can play some more at home."

The girl suddenly burst into tears and ran past Darcy and out the room. Mr. Bennet shrugged and laughed, returning to his friend. Darcy was appalled at his manners; he had been very insensitive to his own child, and didn't even seem to care. What was wrong with this family? Darcy looked back to Eliza, who was now slumped into the couch, her face hidden behind one hand. To his consternation, however, the more pressing question in his mind was how did a family so ill-mannered and uncouth produce such a smart, clever, and entirely knee-weakening daughter?

* * *

The party having already been ruined for her, Eliza found herself only slightly dismayed when Tom sat down next to her at the long dining table. She was very dismayed, however, when Darcy and the Bingleys sat down across from them. Caroline sat across from Eliza, and gave her a vile smile as Darcy poured her some wine. Before the food was served, Mr. Phillips stood up and offered a few words. As he sat down, however, Tom began to clap and stood up himself.

"Well-spoken, Mr. Phillips, well-spoken," Tom began to say. Eliza immediately grabbed his shirt and started tugging him down, but he just smiled down at her and raised his glass.

"I would like to propose a toast to such a fine gathering we have here tonight. We are truly honored, I must say, to have Sir William Darcy in our midst, a true nobleman who understands the importance of having family and friends."

Tom gestured with his glass to Darcy, whose eyes had narrowed slightly but was still expressionless. Tom cleared his throat and continued.

"Yes, family and friends, the most important element in our short, fleeting lives. We must cherish these moments, when we can all dine and be together, for you never know when it might be taken away. All we can do as mere mortals is enjoy our time on this lonely planet, and choose who we enjoy life with wisely. I myself believe I have chosen quite wisely, and my life shall be all the more enjoyable because of it," he said, and then turned and looked at Eliza significantly, producing gasps all along the table. Eliza couldn't help herself; she glared at Tom coldly, who for once seemed to take note of her, and turned away.

"So in conclusion, let me say, may your lives be prosperous and filled with joy. To friends and family!" he finished, raising his glass. Almost everyone else raised their glasses in bewilderment, clinked, and then drank. Eliza was still glaring at Tom, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Caroline and her sister nearly doubled over with laughter. Darcy, she noticed, raised his glass, but downed it in nearly one gulp. When Tom finally sat down, he grinned and patted Eliza's hand. Eliza just stared hard at her plate until the food was finally served.

The pain caused by Tom's speech was slowly ebbing away as Eliza tucked in to her aunt's fabulous food, but her relief was short-lived. Not halfway through the meal, her mother, who was seated some six or seven seats away, started talking to Mrs. Phillips. Her voice was so loud and edged with tipsiness that it carried quite far; Jane and Charles were seated a little farther down the table, and Eliza hoped beyond hope that they couldn't hear her.

"Oh yes, stayed in his apartment for several days… it was so generous of him. Of course, when you're as in love as he is with Jane, you'd do anything! So sweet he is, and oh, Betsy, you should see his apartment. And Netherfield! They are both so finely furnished… he had gold trim on his walls! Real gold! Can you imagine, Betsy, how rich he is? And to think he'll be my son-in-law!"

Eliza couldn't hide her emotion; she glared down the table at her mother, her eyes pricked with tears. She couldn't bear to shout down the table to tell her mother to shut up, but she also couldn't bear listening to her. When she finally took her eyes away from her mother, however, her humiliation increased tenfold. Caroline was staring at her mother, listening avidly, her mouth agape. Darcy was staring hard at his food, his face uneasy. It was all too much, and suddenly Eliza felt very much in danger of crying; finishing up her plate as quickly as she could, blocking every sound of her mother's voice, she stood up and pushed out her chair.

"Are you alright, Eliza?" Tom asked as she stood.

"I'm fine," she lied. Not bothering to tell him where she was going, she left the room as quickly and quietly as possible and ran out the front door. Once on the front porch, however, her composure broke, and she sank on the rocking chair and began to cry. She leaned forward and muffled her face on her knees; she hated feeling like this. She hated not being able to be proud of her own family, of being ashamed of them.

"Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have stopped to buy flowers."

A voice jerked Eliza out of her thoughts; looking up, she wiped her eyes quickly when she found George striding toward her, a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. She instantly smiled, and took a deep breath to calm herself. He sat down next to her and handed her the flowers.

"These are for you… I wanted to stop and get some but then I got lost. You know, you never gave me your phone number," he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

She laughed. "I know."

"I hope these tears aren't for me," he said, reaching over and brushing away the tearstains on her cheeks. "Eh, who am I kidding, I do hope they're for me."

She laughed again. "They're not… at least, not entirely. It hasn't exactly been the greatest party so far," she said with a wry smile.

"Well then, let's see if we can't make it better," he said, helping her up. They started to walk inside when he said, "This is a ridiculous house by the way."

She chuckled; the evening was looking up all of sudden. George asked the way to the bathroom, and she pointed him in the way of the one upstairs. Dinner was over and people had again spread throughout the house. Eliza hurried to put her beautiful flowers in a vase and set it directly in the middle of the living room. She then turned to go to the stairs and wait for George, but she was stopped by a most unusual sight. George was coming down the stairs, just as Darcy was walking by. He halted, however, in front of George. The two men looked at each other with icy glares; George seemed to say hello through tense lips, but Darcy made no answer and swept away. George seemed a bit shaken, and Eliza immediately hurried over, her curiosity piqued.

"I hate to be nosy, but what was _that_ all about?" she said.

He smiled, but it was strained. "How well do you know Will Darcy?" he asked in turn.

"Not very well, but we all hate him," she said, not caring how harsh she sounded.

He looked around the crowded party, and then gestured to have her follow him upstairs. They walked up and into a deserted bedroom and sat on the bed.

"This may sound surprising, but Will and I have known each other since we were very young. We used to be like brothers," George began to say.

Eliza was surprised; _what a small world_, she thought ironically.

"My father was the elder Mr. Darcy's valet for many years. My mother died right after I was born, so it was just my father and me," George spoke fluidly, his eyes downcast. "When Mr. Darcy found out we were living in a rather squalid flat on the outskirts of town, he invited us to live at Pemberley, in the housekeeper's quarters." He paused, and a faint smile graced his face. "Mr. Darcy was such a generous man. He treated me like a second son… he sent me to the same boarding school as Will. We were roommates for many years, and – or so I thought – friends, as well. We attended Oxford together, and when we graduated I was to go to law school with Will here in New York. But then Mr. Darcy died, very suddenly, from a heart attack." He paused again, his lower lip quivering. Eliza laid her hand on his and squeezed. He smiled shakily and resumed his story.

"In his will, Mr. Darcy had stated very specifically that I was to go to law school and then get a job in the family firm, as well as take in a sizeable inheritance. But Will… I think he had always been jealous at the relationship I'd had with his father. He found a loophole in the will, and cut me off from the family entirely. I ended up having to scrape together whatever assets I could, and moved to London where I lived with a few mates for a while until I could earn enough money to move here. I thought perhaps I could talk Will into reconsidering, but I couldn't trust myself to face him. I've since heard he used the money set aside for me to go island hopping after university."

Eliza's heart could not help but break for this sad fellow, but it quickly turned to anger. Sure, she'd always found Darcy arrogant and irritatingly pompous, but she'd never truly found him heartless and cruel. Never again would she give him the benefit of the doubt; George's story only proved that Darcy's pride and his cruelty were one in the same. Obviously he just hadn't wanted George to be connected with his perfect, blue-blood family name, and didn't even think twice of cutting him off without a dime. She shook her head.

"I can't believe it," she finally said, still reeling. George laced her fingers in his own.

"You can ask him about it, he'd tell you the whole thing. If there's one thing Darcy is, it's an honest man. Not that that's necessarily a compliment," he said with a smile.

She chuckled. "Well, perhaps it's a good thing you didn't have to spend the rest of your life working with him," she said with an encouraging smile.

"I thank God for it every day."

* * *

Dinner was a most abysmal affair for Will. First came a horrifyingly embarrassing speech by Tom – his only comfort during it was that one look at Eliza's face confirmed his feeling that she would never accept Tom's offer to live with him. Then they had to sit through two courses worth of Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice going on and on about Charles and Jane. The woman actually thought they were going to get married! Darcy kept his eyes down, afraid to look up at that dreadful woman. Not until he heard the clattering of a chair did his eyes jerk upwards to find Eliza standing to leave the table. Her eyes were glistening and for a split second he instinctively nudged his chair back to stand as well. When Caroline hissed at him, he came to his senses and returned to the table, but by then Eliza had flown from the room.

By the time dessert came, he was wishing that he had left the table as well, if not to follow Eliza but just to leave. Tom, who had only been talking to Eliza before she left, took up her seat to be closer to Darcy, and insisted on engaging him in a rather one-sided, inane conversation. The moment his plate was taken away, Darcy left the table as quickly and politely as he could, hurrying into the living room, hoping to see Eliza. She wasn't there, and before long everyone else was streaming out of the dining room and piling into the living room. The room was becoming stuffy and hot, and Darcy strode out, hoping to go out onto the front porch to take a breather.

Will was walking by the stairs when he felt it. He couldn't even see his face, but Will knew the familiar surge of hot, molten hatred which immediately spread throughout his body whenever he was in close proximity to a one George Wickham. And before he knew it, there George was, right in front of him, casually walking down the stairs.

"Hello, Will," George said quietly, obviously taking note of the frigid glare Will fixed on him. Will stormed away, knowing that if he spent even another second in George's cursed company, he would not be able to control himself.

Will made it to the front porch before letting out his breath in one long, exasperated groan. What in bloody hell was George Wickham doing here? The one man he loathed above all others, the one person he could not control his emotions around. How dare he show up here! Had that been his purpose, to show up here just to torture Will? Because George Wickham knew that Will would never reveal the real reason he hated George Wickham to anyone… Will groaned again, because he knew that George was probably in there right now, charming everyone he met, and spinning his perfected web of lies, ensnaring anyone who would listen. For who would doubt such an innocent, handsome face? Especially when he was speaking ill of Will Darcy… Will knew he was greatly disliked here, and any incriminating evidence of his awfulness would probably be eagerly accepted.

Will leaned his long body against a post. He knew he should be content with knowing that at least he and those closest to him knew the truth, and that he most certainly should _not_ care about what these people thought of him. With that comforting thought, he took a deep breath and returned inside.

To his surprise, George was not sitting in the middle of the room, telling his tall tales of Will's treachery to the whole party. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Although this was little comfort, Darcy was still somewhat relieved. He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine, and then set out to find Caroline. Somehow her company did not seem so terribly all of a sudden.

Darcy's spirits had been rising, albeit ever so slowly, until he walked out onto the back deck looking for Caroline. Suddenly the hot rage was surging again, with twice the force this time. George and Eliza were standing together by the rail; she was laughing and he had one hand on the small of her back. Will's hands shook – was this man out to poison _everything_ he loved? he thought vehemently. Looking at the pair of them, he could barely stand the thought of Eliza being tricked into believing George's cruel falsehoods. He wanted to blame her, he wanted to finally be able to cast her off as a simpleton and ditz, but he knew George too well. Even the best of people, Will's father included, were constantly being sucked into George's suave, effervescent charms. He knew how to get people to love him, even if it meant tricking them into it. Will, on the other hand, only knew how to tell the truth. And that, he realized with a heavy heart, was why Eliza was over there with George and not with him.

* * *

George's company grew more addicting by the second. Eliza hadn't laughed so much in a long while, and it took them very little time to find out that they had several things in common, an obsessive love of Led Zeppelin being the least of them. Even when her sisters joined them, and several more people after that (no one could resist him), he still somehow managed to make Eliza feel like they were all alone. She hadn't felt so giddy and smitten since _Edward Scissorhands_ had come out and she'd become infatuated with Johnny Depp.

When the party was over, and George had left, Eliza's head began to cool down enough to notice her sisters' smirks and teasing smiles. She blushed but deflected their questions; she and George were just friends, after all. This hadn't even been a proper date.

As the excitement of the night began to die down, Eliza couldn't wait to tell her sister all about George and Darcy. She felt a sort of vicious vindication at knowing her gut feeling about Darcy had been right all along, and couldn't wait to share it with Jane.

As was predicted, however, when Eliza and Jane were in their pajamas and Eliza had told her the whole horrid tale, Jane only sighed and shook her head.

"There must be a misunderstanding," Jane said in that maddeningly patient voice of hers. "I can't see Will doing something like that out of pure spite. Perhaps George did something to deserve it."

Eliza groaned and rolled onto her back. "Jane, think about it. Darcy hasn't been nice to a single soul in this entire neighborhood since he's been here."

"He's been nice to you," Jane countered.

Eliza laughed. "Nice? He wouldn't even consider dancing with me at the Lucases."

"But then he asked you to dance at Charles' party!" Jane pointed out.

Eliza opened her mouth, but shut it again. She still hadn't been able to figure that one out.

"That's not the point," she argued. "He's still arrogant and conceited and I can totally see him cutting George off without a second thought."

"Just because someone is… snobbish doesn't make them malicious, Lizzie," Jane said.

Eliza groaned again. There was no point in discussing this with her sister. Jane absolutely refused to believe that anyone could be a horrible human being. Everyone was good on some level. Eliza, on the other hand, just knew that Darcy was heartless. After all, why would George Wickham lie to her?

* * *

**A/N**: Ha! What a fool I've been, thinking that my lovely, long winter break would actually afford me the time to write. Ha! I've been ridiculously busy. Not to mention that, as I revealed in my previous author's note, this was that cursed chapter… the chapter that I'd had written, was very happy with, and then poof! I hit one measly button by accident, and half the chapter is missing. Just dandy, Emma. Way to go.

Well anyway, here it is, finished and ready for your reading pleasure (obviously, you've already read it). It is quite a long chapter, so please, not too much whining.

Thank you all very, VERY much for your beauteous and wonderful reviews. The hit count is way high, and the reviews are up there, too. Merci, danke, gracias! (Or any language of your choosing).

Hope everyone had a happy holiday (or whatever politically-correct crap statement I'm supposed to make – by the by, I'd like to thank the loverly UK, for instituting civil union ceremonies. If you are British and are reading this – I love you, and want to be you).

I've seen the movie twice now… still lukewarm about Keira Knightley, but I'm getting there. I love Collins, although mine in this story I tend to think of as the one from the 1940s version with Laurence Olivier (hottie!). He had this hi-larious, nasally voice that I just love.

Anyway…….. wow, if you read this author's note, then brava to you! So please review, and I do hope I can update more quickly next time.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	10. The Departure

Chapter 10 – _The Departure_

Will walked down to breakfast the next morning with some trepidation. He and Caroline had agreed the night before to talk to Charles at breakfast about leaving Long Island and going back to the city. Caroline could barely contain her excitement, but Will dreaded the look on Charles' face; that defeated, yet compliant look that sometimes made Will feel like a bully. And today might be especially hard, for Will could tell that Charles more than liked Jane, he might even be a bit in love with her. But Will rallied his spirits and persuasive powers… Jane didn't love Charles, it was as simple as that. Besides, the sooner they got away from all the Bennets, the better they all would be.

"Ah Will, there you are," came Caroline's slinky voice. She trotted down the stairs until she fell in step with him. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready as ever," Will replied.

Caroline chuckled and entwined her arm in his. "But Will, I have to ask you; why on Earth did I see George Wickham at that party last night? I thought…"

"I didn't speak to him," Will said coldly… he did _not_ want to think about George right now. Thinking of George would lead to thinking of George with Eliza, which would lead to thinking of Eliza… and Will could not deal with that right now.

Caroline took her cue from Will's cold reply and fell silent. They found Charles already at the breakfast table, looking slightly hungover but upbeat.

"Good morning, you two!" he said, and then winced and put a finger to his temple.

Will and Caroline fixed themselves some breakfast, and while Will poured himself some coffee, he heard Caroline already jumping in.

"Charles, we need to talk," she said.

Will sighed, but finished stirring in his milk and went to sit down next to Caroline. Charles was looking back and forth between them, suddenly looking cornered and a bit anxious.

"Um, alright," he said.

"Charles… you've trusted my judgment on many, many things before, and I just ask that you trust it again," Will said slowly.

Charles lowered his eyes, nodding. He knew what was coming.

"Will and I think it best if we all went back to the city this week," Caroline said. Charles' eyebrows twitched.

"I'll be going back to work soon, and Caroline will be going back to London…"

"Will, this isn't about you going back to work, or Caroline going back home," Charles suddenly interjected. "It's about Jane, isn't it?"

"Mostly, yes," Will replied honestly. "Charles you're my friend, and I'm not going to let you stay here and get your heart broken again."

"What makes you so sure it will?"

"Charles, have you met her family?" Caroline said with a cackle, but fell silent at the look on Will's face.

"Charles, I've paid special attention to her when you're together, and she just… she just doesn't seem to feel anything but friendship towards you," Will said.

Charles opened his mouth, but shut it again. After a little while, he said, "I think I know what you mean."

Will had to forcefully remind himself that he was doing this for the right reasons, Jane did not feel anything for his friend, because at that moment, Charles looked the saddest Will had ever seen him.

"But…" Charles began, "what if I just wait it out? What if I just spend a little more time with her, and get her to love me?"

Inexplicably, Will's thoughts flicked to Eliza.

"Charles, that won't work," Caroline spoke for Will. "You've spent plenty of time with her, and she still obviously doesn't feel the same way."

Will nodded in agreement. Charles sighed, but nodded.

"I'll go start packing," he said, and then stood up and walked slowly out of the room.

"Thank _God_," Caroline said as soon as he was gone. "I don't think I could stand one more day in this dump."

Will also felt a surge of relief. The further he was from Eliza, the better. He couldn't wait for the day, which couldn't be far off, when he forgot about her completely.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Eliza woke to two equally distressing sounds. Downstairs, her mother was shrieking and crying at such a high-pitched level, Eliza had a sudden vision of all the windows blowing out. But the other sound demanded her immediate attention; it was the sound of much softer weeping coming from the upstairs study.

"Jane?" she asked quietly as she entered the study. Jane was sitting at the computer, and she wiped her eyes quickly when Eliza entered.

"Jane, what's wrong?" Eliza asked, pulling a chair next to her sister and hugging her immediately. Jane didn't answer at first, and Eliza's eyes went to the computer screen over her sister's shoulder.

_Dear Jane,_

_I'm so sorry I couldn't stop by and say good-bye to you, but we left so quickly that there was barely time to pack! Will must go back to work soon, and so Charles and I decided to go back to the city with him. As I said to Charles, the quicker we leave, the less painful it will be. Besides, Will's sister Georgia_ _is coming to visit soon, and if I'm not much mistaken, she's always had a soft spot for Charles! Of course, she's much younger than him, but to think that one day she could be my sister! How wonderful would that be?_

_So anyway, my dear Jane, I will miss you terribly. I hope we will keep in touch, even if we shall never see each other again. Au revoir!_

_Love your friend,_

_Caroline Bingley_

"That bitch!" Eliza exclaimed, jerking away from Jane in anger.

"Lizzie," Jane said, furiously wiping away her tears, "don't say that."

Eliza groaned; never had she marveled more at her sister's inability to be angry.

"But Jane, she –"

"They've gone back to the city, that's all," Jane said.

"But-"

"I'm quite relieved that they're gone, really," Jane pressed on. "Now I can go back to work without feeling guilty for spending less time with them."

Her voice was calmer, but Eliza still noticed the pain in Jane's eyes. She couldn't blame Charles, not really, for letting his sister talk him into leaving. Sure, it would be nice if Charles had a little more backbone, Eliza thought with a snarl, but then he wouldn't be perfect for Jane. And he really was perfect for Jane... Eliza couldn't bear to think of the pain that Jane must be going through.

"Don't look at me like that, Lizzie," Jane suddenly said, yanking Eliza out of her thoughts. "After all, you never really liked them… and if you don't like them, then why should I?"

Eliza gaped for a moment. "Well..."

"Exactly," Jane said briskly, and then turned back to the computer and closed the e-mail.

"Well, I guess we'd better go downstairs," Eliza said, still struggling to cope with not only the news but her sister's reaction. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe Mom has heard the news."

This made Jane smile a little, and they left the safety of the study and wound their way downstairs to the living room, where Mrs. Bennet and her sister were sitting on the couch; well, Mrs. Phillips was sitting, at least… Mrs. Bennet was more sprawled over half the couch with her legs up on the coffee table. Lydia and Cate hovered over her, trying to give her a glass of wine.

"How could this happen? How could he leave?" she was moaning when Mrs. Bennet caught sight of Jane and Lizzie.

"Ah! There she is! How could you do it? How could you let him slip right through your fingers?" Mrs. Bennet charged Jane. Eliza could feel her arms clenching, but Jane just sighed and went over to her mother.

"He obviously didn't love me, Mom," she said in that lilting, soothing voice of hers.

Mrs. Bennet just let out a fresh moan. "Preposterous!" she exclaimed. "He was completely in love with you, he adored you! How could you just let him go?"

"I didn't know he was leaving, Mama," Jane said.

Mrs. Bennet took no notice of this. "And now he's gone, forever. How are you ever going to find another man like him?"

"I don't know," Jane said; Eliza knew she was the only one who realized that Jane was telling the truth.

"He was handsome, he was rich! Now you'll never marry!" Mrs. Bennet went on.

"Mom, Jane's only twenty-five," Eliza couldn't help but say.

"Actually, the average American woman does get married at twenty-five," Mary suddenly cut in.

"You see?" Mrs. Bennet screeched.

"Yeah, and then they get divorced at thirty!" Eliza said. "Wouldn't you rather Jane wait and find a man she truly loves and will _stay_ married to?"

"That would have been Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet yelped. Eliza opened her mouth, but Jane gave her a look that said: Please don't aggravate this further. Eliza fell silent, mouthed an apology to her sister, and then scampered out of the room.

As she ate her breakfast, her iPod up way too loud as to drown out her mother's incessant moans, Eliza pondered the Bingleys' departure. She couldn't say she was sorry to see Caroline and Will Darcy go, as both of them had been nothing but downers since they arrived… Caroline with her insipid, snide remarks and Darcy with his arrogant, unsmiling face. But Charles…

Before she could finish her thought, however, her cell rang. Reaching over to the kitchen counter, she smiled when she saw that George was calling.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hello, gorgeous," his smooth voice came through.

She chuckled. "Hello, George."

They had talked a few times on the phone since Sunday's party, flirting ever so slightly. Well, it was slight on Eliza's part, anyway.

"And how are you today?" he asked.

Eliza sighed. "Fine, I suppose."

"You don't sound so fine."

Eliza leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the edge of the table.

"Well, our house is in a bit of an uproar. The Bingleys have decided to go back to the city," she explained.

There was a pause. "So?" George said, sounding confused.

"Well… it's complicated. But we'll probably never see them again," she said sadly (well, sadly for Charles and Jane's sake, anyway).

"Oh, I see," he said. "Does that mean our friend Darcy has left, too?"

Eliza smiled at his sarcasm. "Yes, it does."

She could almost hear his excitement over the phone. "Say, I'm busy for the next few days," he said, "but how about I come over on Monday, we'll do something?"

Eliza stabbed her eggs with her fork. "I can't."

"What?" George exclaimed. "Don't go breaking my heart, Bennet."

She laughed. "No, I really can't. My internship begins Monday."

"Oh." He genuinely sounded disappointed. "Well… how late will you be home?"

"Could be kind of late… sometimes I have to stay until five or six. And until I get home..."

"Well, how about lunch?"

She smiled. "Lunch would be great."

"Fantastic. Call me Monday morning and I'll come over."

"Alright. See you then," she said.

"Stay gorgeous," he replied.

She chuckled as she hung up. Lunch with George, getting away from Tom, Caroline Bingley was gone… suddenly her week was looking up.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the long wait! I would blame it on school, but that's only partially true. The other part of it is that this chapter was kind of boring for me to write, and so it just took awhile to get through it. However, I do plan on posting the next chapter very, very soon, since this chapter was pretty darn short, for which I also apologize.

I'm actually quite happy that many of you found George almost too likeable… I wanted to make him like that because, even though we all know what he'll turn out to be, I wanted Eliza to be completely oblivious and I always thought that she should've found something fishy… and also note that Eliza does know that Darcy is honest, if nothing else, so that'll make it easier for her to believe. But I'm getting ahead of myself!

Just to clarify… there were a few questions; the Bennets _are_ pretty darn WASPy and upper-class… Mr. Bennet is making a salary somewhere in the six-figure range. I actually went to the NY Times real estate page and went through some of the houses on Long Island – whew, are they nice (and also tres expensive!) Still, having five daughters would probably put a strain on any budget, no?

Also, there will be more Eliza-Darcy-ness before the whole Rosings bit (which won't actually be Rosings but you get the idea). The next few chapters will take a departure from the book, although there will be some familiar dialogue thrown in. You'll just have to wait and see!

And just on a random note, I've just watched the movie again (and again, and again), and decided that I actually do really like it. I think the first time I saw it I was so ready to not like Keira Knightley because I really don't like her in Pirates of the Caribbean, but she's grown on me. And did anyone see her dress at the Oscars? That was _so_ gorgeous.

Anyway, sorry again for the delay and keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter. And review! I'm loving the 700+ hits this story is getting, but reviews make me even happier!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	11. Moving On?

Chapter 11 - _Moving On?_

The rest of the week passed relatively quickly. The shock from the Bingley's departure seemed to have reverberated throughout the entire neighborhood, and many expressed their surprise that Jane and Charles were no longer (nor had ever been) together. Eliza couldn't bear to talk about it with Charlotte for more than a minute, because Charlotte kept giving her that _I told you so _look, and Eliza realized with a heavy heart that her friend may have been right. Perhaps Charles really hadn't known how Jane had felt about him… perhaps Jane's shyness and modesty had served her ill for once. _But still_… Eliza couldn't help but keep saying to herself.

Sunday afternoon, Jane and Eliza were standing in their room, both trying to pick out an outfit for work on Monday. Eliza had been trying very hard since Wednesday to keep up a cheerful conversation, but Jane didn't seem ready for it. So now they were both standing silently in front of the closet, pondering what to wear.

"I haven't worked in two weeks, Lizzie!" Jane suddenly exclaimed. "I just realized… that's horrible of me, how could I have taken that much time off?"

"Well, you got sick, remember?" Eliza said.

"Yes, but still…" Jane trailed off. Eliza chuckled quietly to herself. "I don't even know what to wear anymore."

"Me neither… what sort of outfit does a curator's assistant wear?"

Jane chuckled, but reached into the closet and pulled out a pair of gray linen-blend pants, a printed camisole, and a one-button matching jacket.

"There, chic yet good for summer," Jane said, handing it over.

"Shoes?" was Eliza's next question.

Jane searched through their mammoth pile of shoes before producing a pair of pointy-toed, purple kitten heels.

"They go with the shirt," she said.

"Perfect!" Eliza said, laying out the outfit on her bed. "And now for you…"

She pulled out a pair of khaki chinos and knitted black tank, and handed it over to her sister. Jane smiled.

"Shoes?" she inquired.

And then Eliza dived into the shoes and rummaged for a pair of black strappy espadrilles.

"Excellent," Jane said, and then she, too, laid out her outfit on the bed. Eliza noticed with some excitement that Jane looked like she was ready to talk; unfortunately for Eliza, she still had a certain thorn in her side to deal with, and Tom chose just that moment to show up.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said as entered the room. He seemed different than usual; his crisp white shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and he kept bouncing from one foot to the other, twisting a handkerchief in his hands.

"Jane, might I ask," Tom began to say, but Jane was ready. She stood up and smiled.

"Of course, Tom," she said, and with an apologetic look to Lizzie, she left the room.

"Good afternoon, Eliza," Tom repeated.

"Hello, Tom," Eliza said, immediately springing up from the bed and busying herself with picking up a few odds and ends on the floor. She had known this conversation was coming, but was afraid she might not have the stomach for it now that it was actually happening.

Tom sat down delicately in the armchair and watched Eliza as she flitted around. When he didn't begin to speak, her stomach fell a little and she resigned herself to sitting across from him on the bed. He smiled shakily at her.

"Eliza, my feelings can be of no great mystery to you," he began. _Here we go_, she thought.

"I have found myself quite under your spell ever since I arrived," he continued, in his drab, nasally voice. "I know I have never said it outright, but I do think I am in love with you."

"Tom, you really shouldn't-" Eliza started to say, but Tom raised a hand to cut her off. Her stomach sunk lower.

"Please, allow me to finish, before I get carried away with my emotions." She rolled her eyes while he took a deep breath. "Almost as soon as I entered this house, I found your modesty, grace, and wit to be of the most exemplary level. I know I may be rushing things, but surely you will be excited when I tell you that Lady Catherine has offered me an apartment in her building in Manhattan, and she, in her infinite wisdom, has advised me to bring along a companion. And I choose you, Eliza… Lady Catherine may not approve, but I'm sure once she gets to know you, she will change her mind. We move in next Friday," he finished, looking at her complacently.

"Hold on, Tom, don't forget I haven't given you an answer yet," Eliza said, appalled by his audacity.

Tom just smiled. "Oh Eliza, there's no need for an answer; I see it in your eyes."

"Then surely you know that my answer is no," Eliza said. Tom's eyes bulged, but then he chuckled.

"There's no sense in playing hard to get now, Lizzie. We know each other too well."

"On the contrary, Tom, you hardly know me at all, or else you wouldn't be asking me this," Eliza said, feeling a horrible mixture of pity and alarm. "I would never insult you by playing hard to get. So you must know I'm telling the truth when I refuse your generous offer," she said, hoping it sounded more polite to his ears than it did to hers.

Again Tom paused, but then smiled and laid a hand on hers. "I know it is a woman's way to want to be chased and pursued."

"Tom, trust me, I would never want to be chased by you," she said, and then bit her tongue. She picked up his hand and patted it. "Believe me, you could never make me happy, and I know I'm the last woman on Earth who could make _you_ happy. Moving in is a huge commitment… don't you want to wait for someone who you'll truly enjoy living with?"

Tom's face fell, and he seemed to finally hear what she was saying. Withdrawing his hand, he stood up, his face frozen.

"I… well," he stuttered, and then abruptly turned to open the door, only to find Jane, Lydia, Cate, and Mrs. Bennet all huddled together on the other side. Lydia and Cate were trying to muffle their giggles, while Mrs. Bennet immediately caught hold of Tom as he tried to make his way to the stairs.

"Tom, darling, don't be distressed, Lizzie will certainly come around, I know she's very fond of you and would love to move to the city," she was saying to him, but he continued to plow on.

"I apologize, Mrs. Bennet, for trespassing on your hospitality so many times," he said. "I really must be going."

And with that, he tore away from Mrs. Bennet, hurried down the stairs and was out the door. Mrs. Bennet watched him go and then immediately rounded on Eliza, her face bright red and fury etched into every wrinkle and line.

"Lizzie, how could you!" she screeched. Eliza leaned against her door frame, ready to wait out the storm. She couldn't deny that she felt immense relief now that Tom was gone, but also knew that her ears would be ringing for days after her mother was through.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she said valiantly, but to no avail.

"Sorry? Oh, do you hear that? She's sorry," Mrs. Bennet raged. "Lizzie, you could have lived in the city, you could have moved out!"

Eliza stood a little straighter at this. "Is that what you want? Me to move out?"

Mrs. Bennet grumbled under her breath for a moment before saying, "Well, what do you think, Lizzie? Five girls! One already out of school and one almost out, and still all five are living at home! Will I get no peace and quiet? Will nothing ever calm my nerves?"

Eliza was nothing short of flabbergasted at this speech; she looked to Jane, whose eyes were on floor, her arms crossed. Eliza turned back to her mother.

"Mom, I had no idea…" she trailed off.

Mrs. Bennet's face brightened. "Go on, Lizzie, you could still catch Tom!"

Eliza groaned. "No, Mom, I am _not_ living with that man."

"Oh, I'm sure he would settle for something platonic, you know, you wouldn't have to…"

"Ew!" Cate and Lydia cried; Eliza, too, felt sick at the allusion her mother made.

"Mom, Tom wants a girlfriend, a girlfriend that his precious Lady Catherine will love and that he'll marry within a year," Eliza tried to explain.

"Not necessarily," Mrs. Bennet said, but Eliza shook her head.

"Mom, barring the fact that Tom is one of the most pompous, disgusting men I have ever met, I am _not_ getting married right out of college!" Eliza cried.

"_I_ got married at twenty," Mrs. Bennet said coldly.

Eliza paused. What could she say to that? She certainly couldn't say what she was thinking, which was that while Mrs. Bennet had gone to college like Eliza, she had never planned on having a career. Luckily, Jane saved her.

"Yes, but Mama, you _loved_ Dad," Jane said.

Mrs. Bennet was not to be deterred, however. "Lizzie could learn to love Tom."

"In an alternate universe, perhaps," Lydia said with a laugh. Mrs. Bennet gave a huff, threw up her hands, and stormed downstairs. Cate and Lydia immediately followed, saying words of comfort as they went.

"Why does she always have to do that?" Eliza asked Jane when it finally became quiet once more. "Send on me huge guilt trips?"

Jane smiled and gave Eliza a hug. "That's what mothers do," she said. Something in Jane's demeanor was not quite right, however.

"You alright, Jane?" Eliza asked, worried that Jane was thinking about Charles again. "Is it-?"

"No," Jane said emphatically. "No… I was just thinking about what Mom said."

"What's that?" Eliza asked curiously, her brow furrowed.

Jane sighed deeply and leaned against the wall.

"Perhaps I should move out," she said.

Eliza's heart sunk right to the floor. "Jane, no, you cannot leave me here all by myself," she said frantically.

Jane smiled. "I know, but Lizzie… I'm almost twenty-five. I've been out of school for two years; I have a steady job… I have some money saved up; perhaps I could get something right in Brooklyn…"

Eliza groaned; she could tell Jane was serious about this. And she couldn't help but feel lonely already.

"Well… I think Mom would rather have _me_ out of the house than you, but…" She smiled.

Jane kissed Eliza quickly on the cheek, and then went into the study. Eliza turned into the door and banged her head against it in frustration. Suddenly, her week was no longer looking up.

* * *

The following morning, Eliza and Jane woke up around the same time; it took both of them around forty minutes to get to work. Eliza groggily pulled on her clothes, spruced up her hair, and put on her makeup before going downstairs to gulp down some coffee, grab a bagel and then meet Jane outside at the car. Jane drove Eliza to the bus station in a tired silence. She wished Lizzie good luck and then drove, leaving Eliza to curse the morning traffic that made it impossible for her to drive to work. 

A small knot of anxiety was quietly forming in her stomach, but Eliza ate her bagel as the bus rustled on to Manhattan; although her assignment had been switched at the last moment from a Picasso exhibit to a newer one, she had already met her boss, a very nice, if somewhat intimidatingly intelligent and sophisticated, woman named Victoria Emerson. Besides, today would be little more than a training session, so that Eliza could learn what she would be doing every day.

After what felt like an unbearably long bus ride, she was finally dropped off on Fifth Avenue just in time: it was five to 9:00.

For the first time in her life, Eliza walked right past all of the fabulous art that would normally cause her to spend hours wandering around with no direction… instead, she proudly showed her employee badge and went into the administrative offices. Feeling encouraged by the warm smiles that greeted her from the people walking in and out of their offices, coffee mugs in hand, she walked straight to Ms. Emerson's office and knocked confidently on the door.

"Come on in," came Ms. Emerson's crisp yet warm voice. Eliza entered with a smile, walking up to Ms. Emerson's huge mahogany desk. Her office was very nicely decorated with framed prints of different pieces of art, along with many pictures of Ms. Emerson herself next to assorted artists and officials.

"Ah, Miss Bennet!" Ms. Emerson said.

"Good morning, Ms. Emerson," Eliza said, quickly checking one last time with her tongue for poppy seeds from her bagel.

Ms. Emerson stood and waved a hand. "Nonsense, call me Victoria."

"Good morning, Victoria," Eliza said again with a smile. "And you can call me Eliza."

"Eliza… how nice; you don't often hear that nickname for Elizabeth anymore," Victoria commented.

Eliza chuckled. "Yes, well, I used to have a very strong affection for _My Fair Lady_."

Victoria laughed and motioned for Eliza to sit.

"Well, we're going to be moving around quite a lot today, so you can always leave your purse or other belongings in my office," Victoria began.

Eliza nodded, and reached over to hang her purse on Victoria's coat hooks. Clasping her hands in her lap, she tried to not to crack her knuckles as she looked back to Victoria with a smile.

"Well, we'll get the essentials out of the way first. Lunch will normally be at noon; at least, that's when I take lunch. You will usually be able to take it whenever you wish, with the sort of work you're doing. As long as you're back within an hour," she said, mock-seriously. Eliza nodded.

"We'll be working on the new Charles Rochester exhibition, so as we get closer to the opening date, you'll be staying later and later, but for now I'll probably send you home around five," Victoria continued. "Mostly you'll be working alone, but there may be times when I'll need you to fill in for me."

"Alright," Eliza said.

"Well, then, shall we get started?"

The remainder of the morning consisted of Victoria and Eliza walking around the huge area where the Rochester exhibit would be held. The paintings themselves would be moved in early next week, but Eliza would be busy overseeing the preparation of the walls, plaques, interactive features, that sort of thing. Eliza was introduced to no less than a dozen people, all of whom she would be working with on an almost daily basis. It was certainly nice to feel in charge, Eliza thought with a smile.

As promised, at around ten to noon, Victoria told Eliza she was going back up to her office and then to lunch, and that Eliza should feel free to do so, as well. After lunch, Eliza would be on her own, holding a meeting with her many workers.

The moment Eliza was out in the bright sun, she took out her phone and dialed George's number. She hoped he was somewhere nearby so it wouldn't take him too long to get to the museum.

"Hello?" His voice was husky and groggy.

"George? It's Eliza," she said.

"Oh, Eliza, hi," he said. Eliza couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the lack of his usual excitement when he talked to her.

"So… are we still up for lunch?" she asked awkwardly, trying not to think he'd forgotten.

"Oh… lunch, right," he murmured. "I'm so sorry, Eliza… something came up, I don't think I can make it."

"Oh, well that's alright," she said.

"I'm so sorry, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said, clearing his throat.

"That's fine… I'll talk to you later," she said, and quickly hung up. Shading her eyes, she scanned the street for a nearby deli… she would just eat quickly alone on a bench. Rallying her spirits, she told herself that she shouldn't be too upset; after all, George was a musician, and probably kept all sorts of crazy hours… for all she knew, he'd just gone to bed that morning. I should've just waited for _him_ to call _me,_ she told herself.

Determinedly keeping her mind off of George, Eliza ate her lunch quickly, basking in the warm, breezy day. Going back into the museum, she promised herself to focus completely and utterly on work. That was the only way to keep her mind off of… other things.

* * *

Will was quite thrilled to go back to work; he had promised himself to focus completely and utterly on work… that was the only way he was going to keep his mind off of… other things. The New York branch of his law firm was currently being run by a good family friend, Mr. Vyse, who, even though he was technically Will's boss at the current time, still let Will basically run the place from the moment he stepped into the office. 

"Mr. Darcy, how good to see you!" Mr. Vyse said cordially. "I hope your vacation was good."

"It was fine," Will allowed. "But it is good to be back."

"And it's certainly good to have you back!" Mr. Vyse said; Will was tiring of his flattery already.

"What's on the agenda, Mr. Vyse?" Will asked as he settled himself at his desk.

"Well, I have Mr. Rochester coming in at ten," Mr. Vyse began. "He really should've been in a week ago, but he insisted on only dealing with you."

Will nodded as he opened his briefcase. "Anything else?"

"Well, Mr. Rochester might be taking up a lot of your time," Mr. Vyse said with a weary smile.

Will chuckled. "I thought as much. When does his exhibition open?"

"Two and half weeks, sir."

"Mr. Vyse, you don't have to call me sir."

Mr. Vyse shook his head vehemently. "No, Mr. Darcy, I must. You are my superior, just as your father was."

"Not yet, Mr. Vyse," Will reminded him.

"No, sir, you truly are my superior," Mr. Vyse insisted.

_Well, I can't argue with that_, Will thought. He nodded and waved a hand to dismiss Mr. Vyse, who smiled as he scurried out of the room.

Will busied himself with re-setting his computer and re-familiarizing himself with Mr. Rochester's file; at exactly ten o'clock, Mr. Charles Rochester himself burst into the office. Already a well-known artist in England, Rochester had spent a lot of Will's time (but had also paid Will a lot of money) to find just the right museum in America for his very first exhibition in the States. All manner of museums from all over the country had been vying for it, but Will had always known it would be the Met. Rochester was constantly saying how much he loved the Met, but at the same time, was constantly cursing them for what he thought to be their conspiratorial plan to ruin his exhibition.

"Will, thank God you are back!" Rochester exclaimed the moment he was in the room. "They're ruining it! Completely destroying my beautiful work! They want to put up poetry alongside the paintings! They want to make mugs! I don't want mugs! That's selling out!"

"Good morning, Mr. Rochester… please sit down," Will said calmly. Rochester grumbled, but took a seat in one of the armchairs.

"Now, Mr. Rochester, I know you're not going to like hearing this, but you did sign the contract that limited your involvement in the presentation of the exhibit," Will explained.

Rochester glared at him for a moment. "But I still have some involvement!"

"Yes, I know. I'll contact the curator who is coordinating the exhibit and tell her we will be coming by on Wednesday to check it out."

Rochester seemed a little comforted by this. "Alright. But you check that contract again!"

"I will, Mr. Rochester," Will said. Rochester seemed soothed, and in a few moments he was standing up to leave.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," he said, shaking Will's hand.

"Thank _you_, Mr. Rochester. Meet me in front of the museum at ten on Wednesday morning."

"Will do," Rochester said as he left the office. Mr. Vyse popped his head in after Rochester had left.

"Is that Charles Rochester leaving already?" Mr. Vyse asked.

"Indeed, it is," Will said.

"I don't know how you do it, sir… it always took us at least several hours to get him to leave," Mr. Vyse said in amazement.

Will smiled wryly. "I do seem to have that sort of effect on people."

Mr. Vyse smiled, but looked rather confused. Will sighed and returned to his work; this Rochester case would certainly keep his mind off things.

Later that afternoon, after reading and re-reading Mr. Rochester's contract several times, Will picked up the phone to call the Victoria Emerson, who was their contact at the Met.

"Hello, Victoria Emerson's office," a female voice answered the phone. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but not like Ms. Emerson's.

"Ms. Emerson?" he asked.

"Oh, no I'm sorry, Ms. Emerson is in a meeting, this is her assistant, Elizabeth Bennet."

Will's stomach clenched. Eliza? But how…? Then he remembered her telling him that she was going to do an internship with the Metropolitan in a few weeks… _or now_, he thought. What to do?

"Hello?" Eliza asked.

"Oh…" Will stammered, unable to think. "Um… wrong number," he said quickly, and hung up. He let his head slide down to his desk… what was wrong with him? He could have talked to her; he was Mr. Rochester's _lawyer_, he had every valid reason to call. Besides, she was going to find out eventually; perhaps she was even going to see him.

Walking out of his office, he left a note for his secretary to call Ms. Emerson's office in the morning. Slumping back to his desk, he realized that this case was most definitely _not_ going to take other things off his mind.

* * *

Ms. Emerson let Eliza go home around 5:30 that evening. The afternoon had gone very well; she'd run the meeting for Charles Rochester's exhibit and then had taken a few phone calls for Victoria while Ms. Emerson attended a few meetings. Victoria had expressed her delight with Eliza, and Eliza couldn't help but get on the bus with a large grin on her face. She immediately got out her phone to call Jane. 

"Hello?" came Jane's clear voice.

"Jane!" Eliza said.

"Lizzie!" Jane said, sounding excited. "How did your first day go?"

"Stupendously!" Eliza cried. "My boss is fantastic, and the exhibit is going to be great."

"That's so great, I'm so happy, Lizzie," Jane said.

"What about you? Any news?" Eliza asked.

"Lots of news," Jane said. "Are you ready?"

"Hit me with it," Eliza said.

"Well, when I went to work, we had a huge staff meeting. Our office is going to expand, and it's going to have new locations in all five boroughs!" Jane said.

"Wow, that's awesome."

"Exactly… apparently we're just going to take over existing locations, but get this: my boss wants _me_ to be the head of the Manhattan site!"

Eliza smiled wide; she could tell Jane was very excited.

"Oh, Jane, I'm so proud of you! That's amazing, congratulations!" she cried.

"Thank you. So then I thought, well, instead of moving to Brooklyn, I'll move to Manhattan instead."

"Are you sure? Manhattan is more expensive, Jane," Eliza said.

"Well, hold on, I'm not done," Jane said with a chuckle. "So I called Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to ask them to help me."

Eliza nodded to herself; that was certainly a good idea. John (Mr. Bennet's brother) and Anne Gardiner were realtors in Mahattan and knew the city inside out.

"But when I told them my budget, they thought it would be a good idea if I waited a little, since my new job will pay more," Jane went on.

Eliza's heart rose a little; perhaps Jane wouldn't be moving at all!

"So I'm going to move in with _them_ for a few months until I save up a little more money, and then we'll all go apartment hunting together!" Jane finished.

Eliza's heart fell again. But Jane sounded happy, so Eliza forced herself to be happy as well.

"Jane, that sounds wonderful! I _adore_ Aunt Anne and Uncle John… and their apartment is enormous," Eliza said.

"I know… Aunt Anne said that Uncle John is working more than her now, so she's been getting a little lonely. I get my own little suite with a bathroom and everything."

The two sisters chatted about Jane's new living situation almost until Eliza got off the bus, hurried home, and they continued the conversation in person. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain her excitement, and they had the Gardiners over for dinner that very night. Jane was clearly excited, and while Eliza was terribly sad to see her go, she couldn't help but feel excited for her. This would be good for Jane… and besides, the Gardiners lived on Fifth Avenue, only a few blocks away from Charles and Darcy's building. Perhaps Jane and Charles would run into each other! Eliza just knew they loved each other, and that it had to work out.

Jane was gone by Tuesday evening. Eliza watched her go with a very heavy heart, even though they hugged for what felt like an hour and promised to visit each other all the time, seeing as the Gardiners lived so close to the museum. But as Eliza walked back into her room, which was now only hers, and her sisters were crowding around crying about who knows what, she couldn't help but feel she'd lost not just a sister, not just a friend, but an ally.

* * *

A/N: There! That's was like, the quickest update ever! So please review, my lovely readers! 

Also, if anyone has any suggestions for the summary… I know it's not horrible, but is it terribly enticing? What made you want to read this story? Was it the summary or just that it was P&P? I'd really love to know!

Update: I'd really love to get at least ten reviews for this chapter before I update again; currently there are only 5 so PLEASE review! (sorry if that sounds whiny; I know people are reading but I want to know what people THINK of what they're reading!)

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	12. Encounters

**Chapter 12 **– _Encounters_

By Wednesday, Eliza had fallen into her routine at the Met. Jane had called her earlier that morning to tell her that she was already settled at the Gardiners, and Eliza expressed her happiness, hoping that her sister couldn't tell she wasn't entirely sincere.

Around quarter to ten, Victoria joined Eliza in the gallery where Eliza was helping to open paint cans for the stencils on the walls.

"Eliza, you may want to hold up for a moment," Victoria said. She looked a little upset, so Eliza immediately ceased what she was doing to join Victoria.

"What's wrong?" Eliza asked.

Victoria sighed. "Mr. Rochester is arriving in fifteen minutes to have a look around."

"Charles Rochester? Really?" Eliza said excitedly, but then calmed down at the look on Victoria's face.

"You won't be so excited after you meet him, I'm afraid," Victoria said.

"Oh," Eliza mused, her shoulders falling.

"I don't know what he's complaining about, he signed the contract, we told him exactly what we were going to do with the exhibit; now he's having an absolute cow over it."

"What's wrong with exhibit?" Eliza asked, feeling a little hurt; she hadn't designed the exhibit, but even after only two days she felt an enormous responsibility for it.

Victoria sighed again, gazing around. "He doesn't want mugs," she said, throwing up her hands.

"Come again?" Eliza asked, confused. Victoria smiled and chuckled a little.

"Never mind," she said, laying a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder. "He and Mr. Darcy will be here any minute, we'll talk to them."

Eliza's heart stopped for a moment. _Mr. -? _

"Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"His lawyer," Victoria said offhandedly.

It couldn't be… _well, of course it could_, Eliza thought, _he _is _a lawyer, and he was going back to work…_ She groaned quietly. She'd thought she'd seen the last of that man! He was so… arrogant, so stoic. _Not to mention heartless and cruel_, she thought as she thought of George. Poor George… she would have to call him tonight. Surely he could offer some words of encouragement on dealing with the callous Darcy. Because it wasn't personal this time; it was business.

Sure enough, at precisely ten o'clock, a guard was leading Will Darcy and Mr. Rochester into the gallery. If Eliza weren't so tense, she would have found the image hilarious: Darcy, in his crisp, immaculate suit, complete with unsmiling, cold face could not have been more different than Mr. Rochester, who was wearing what looked to be his pajamas, splattered in dried paint, his hair uncombed and wild.

"Mr. Darcy," Victoria said with a smile, reaching out to shake his hand. He merely nodded as he took her hand. As Victoria moved on to Mr. Rochester, Darcy turned to Eliza. A twitch in his eyebrows seemed to be his only form of recognition as he nodded to her.

"Miss Bennet," he said.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, shaking his hand quickly.

There was no time for small talk, thankfully; Mr. Rochester had immediately launched into ranting about the gallery, the color of the walls, the words that were half finished… Eliza waited patiently by Victoria's side, who made no effort to interrupt. Finally, when Mr. Rochester stopped to take a breath, it was Darcy who spoke.

"Ms. Emerson, we _both_ know what is said in the contract," he said, referring to Rochester and himself. "And while the majority of the responsibility for the creative presentation of this exhibit rests with you and your staff, Mr. Rochester does have some say, which so far he has not been able to express."

"Well, of course, Mr. Rochester can tell us his thoughts on-" Victoria began to say.

"No mugs! I do not want my paintings on mugs!" Mr. Rochester immediately burst out.

Eliza heard Victoria take a deep breath.

"There doesn't necessarily have to be _mugs_, Mr. Rochester," she said slowly, "but you must realize that there _will_ have to be merchandise. There is no admission fee to this exhibit; if you, and the museum, are going to make any money off of this, there must be merchandise associated with it, and with you."

"We understand that, Ms. Emerson," Darcy cut in; Eliza noticed him putting a hand on Rochester's elbow, as if to pull him back. "I believe what Charles is more concerned with is the general presentation of his work."

"Well, we showed you the plans for the gallery weeks ago," Victoria said. Darcy's eyes hardened.

"Well, now Mr. Rochester has had time to think on it," he said.

"And?" Victoria asked, her eyebrow raised.

They all looked toward Rochester, who was wandering about the gallery, looking at the stencils on the walls. Eliza narrowed her eyes; she had spent all of yesterday preparing those, getting them just perfect on the walls, and had left last night very happy with the way they looked. The stencils spelled out bits of poetry that went quite well with Mr. Rochester's scenic watercolors, and lent a nice ambience to the whole room.

"We're not too pleased with these words on the walls," Darcy said after a few moments.

"Why not?" Eliza quipped.

He turned to her, expression unreadable as usual. "They're a bit childish, don't you think?"

"On the contrary, they fit in nicely with the theme of nature," she countered.

"I don't think the patrons of this museum need to be told what to think of the paintings," Darcy said, his eyes taunting her.

God, how she hated him. Luckily, before she fired back with something she might regret later, Victoria jumped in.

"Do you two know each other?" she asked with an amused chuckle.

Eliza hitched a smile on her face and turned to her boss. "Only a little," she said.

* * *

Darcy was dreading going to the museum with Rochester for two reasons: one, Rochester was a pain in the ass who would probably make a fool of both himself and Darcy, and two, there was the chance he would see Eliza. Ever since he'd left Long Island, she'd been on his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder: if he felt this way, did she? 

As he'd feared, there were two people waiting for them in the gallery. Victoria Emerson, a tall, thin blonde woman was standing next to Eliza, whose hair was curlier than usual and sparkled a little in the sunlight. _Mustn't act unusual_, he reminded himself. Directing his eyes firmly away from Eliza, he approached Ms. Emerson.

"Mr. Darcy," she said; he shook her hand quickly, not especially caring for the woman. She moved on to greet Rochester, while he slowly turned himself to Eliza. She looked especially lovely in khaki cropped pants, high heels, and a chartreuse blouse. He wasn't sure what sort of greeting she would expect, so he just nodded.

"Miss Bennet," he said, very business-like.

"Mr. Darcy," she replied.

He wished they could have spoken a little longer, but Rochester wasted no time in commencing his tirades about the exhibit. Darcy took a moment to look around; yes, those words on the walls would have to go. They just looked silly… and some of them were crooked. The color of the walls was a bit pale; he had seen the frames, and this just would not work. For once, he was actually agreeing with Rochester.

After a minute or so, Rochester paused for a split second. Will seized the opportunity.

"Ms. Emerson, we _both_ know what is said in the contract," he said, referring to Rochester and himself. "And while the majority of the responsibility for the creative presentation of this exhibit rests with you and your staff, Mr. Rochester does have some say, which so far he has not been able to express."

Ms. Emerson looked harried, and Darcy shook his head slightly. If she couldn't deal with one demanding artist, how did she ever expect to make it as a curator?

"Well, of course," she began, "Mr. Rochester can tell us his thoughts on-" she started to say.

Will could feel Rochester bristling next to him.

"No mugs!" he exclaimed. "I do not want my paintings on mugs!"

Ms. Emerson breathed deeply for a moment; Eliza was still standing calmly by her side.

"There doesn't necessarily have to be _mugs_, Mr. Rochester," Ms. Emerson said slowly, "but you must realize that there _will_ have to be merchandise. There is no admission fee to this exhibit; if you, and the museum, are going to make any money off of this, there must be merchandise associated with it, and with you."

Darcy laughed silently to himself. Honestly, if she was going to be this dull about it, he would just have to give up and leave.

"We understand that, Ms. Emerson," he said, holding back Rochester, who was glaring daggers at both Ms. Emerson and Eliza. The last thing he needed was Rochester to make a scene. "I _believe_," he emphasized, pulling harder on Rochester's elbow, "what Charles is more concerned with is the general presentation of his work."

"Well, we showed you the plans for the gallery weeks ago," Ms. Emerson said coldly. Will couldn't help but glare at her a little, too. _Yes_, he wanted to say, _and we thought they were rubbish then, too._ He settled on something more diplomatic.

"Well, now Mr. Rochester has had time to think on it."

"And?" Ms. Emerson countered, her thin eyebrow raised. Will was suddenly forcibly reminded of Caroline. Shaking that horrible image out of his mind, he turned toward Rochester, who had wandered a bit off. He was examining the stencils, and Will could tell the artist with displeased with them, too.

"We're not too pleased with these words on the walls," he said after a few moments, receiving a nod of confirmation from Rochester.

"Why not?"

Will jerked his head back to Eliza, who had spoken for the first time. Her head was cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised. He turned fully to her.

"They're a bit childish, don't you think?" he said. He couldn't believe she would actually like these stencils; he had taken her for someone to be highly appreciative of fine art.

"On the contrary," she replied, her voice icier than he had ever heard it, "they fit in nicely with the theme of nature."

He looked around at the walls once more; yes, Rochester's exhibit was all about the outdoors, and the stencils spelled out bits of Whitman and some quotes from Thoreau. But it was as if you were being told what to think while viewing the paintings, and surely Eliza had to see that.

"I don't think the patrons of this museum need to be told what to think of the paintings," he said to her, trying to challenge her. He was slightly shocked, but altogether delighted when he received not a gracious smile in return, but a cold, hard stare.

"Do you two know each other?" Ms. Emerson suddenly asked, looking back and forth between them. Will watched as Eliza's face immediately melted into a smile.

"Only a little," she answered.

Will nodded in agreement, but inside he was thinking he knew everything about her just from her eyes.

Snapping out of his momentary lapse of reality, he found Rochester and Ms. Emerson heatedly discussing something much further down the gallery while Eliza was standing near to him, frowning at the walls. Surely she must feel _something_ toward him… how could he be such a mess whenever he was near her, and she not feel a thing? It wasn't possible… was it?

"Do you really like these stencils?" he asked quietly, coming to stand next to her.

She shrugged, her mouth tense and thin. "Yes," she said.

He nodded, considering them again. Maybe they weren't so bad… perhaps with a different font…

"You left Netherfield rather quickly," Eliza suddenly said.

This took his mind off stencils quite completely.

"Yes, well, I had to return to work," he replied slowly.

"Hm," she murmured. "I'm sure Caroline was… eager to leave, too," she went on, her eyes still fixed on the wall.

Will chuckled dryly. She looked quickly up at him, her brow quizzical. He abruptly stopped, awkwardly turning it into a cough.

"Well, Caroline… doesn't really like the sand," he said, remembering Caroline's jubilation upon returning to the city.

"That must have been it," Eliza said sarcastically. Will frowned; what did she think was the reason they left? From the look on her face, it seemed as if she thought it had been something bad. They did leave rather quickly, and with no real explanation, but Will hadn't really thought anyone would care; perhaps he'd been wrong.

* * *

The morning progressed as slow as if Eliza was trapped in molasses. Although Victoria had suggested they break for lunch, Mr. Rochester had been too engrossed in detailing his displeasures with the gallery to let them go. Finally, around two in the afternoon, with all of their stomachs screaming in anguish, Mr. Darcy and Rochester left, promising to return on Friday. Eliza had barely processed anything that had gone on for the last hour, so she and Victoria dined silently together in the museum cafeteria. When they finished, Victoria sighed deeply and looked at Eliza pityingly. 

"I'm so sorry, Eliza," she said. She looked down at her notepad, every inch of which was covered in scribbles and notes. She looked back up to Eliza, her eyes frustrated.

"Just tell me what to do," Eliza said with an encouraging smile. Victoria smiled as well, patting Eliza's hand.

"Thank you so much," she said, ripping off the top sheet. "You know, I think I'll just send you home for now… take this and try to make sense of it. We'll go over our lists tomorrow morning and see what we can do."

"No problem," Eliza replied, taking the paper.

"Normally I can handle these crazy artists a lot better than this," Victoria said, looking almost apologetic. Eliza chuckled and smiled sympathetically.

"Plus his lawyer…" Victoria went on.

"You didn't like him?" Eliza asked excitedly.

Victoria furrowed her brow. "Well obviously you don't," she said with a chuckle. "How _do_ you know him anyway?"

Eliza leaned back and waved a hand. "He lived in my neighborhood for a short period."

"He's just so… cold," Victoria said. "It's hard to reason with someone so reserved."

"Exactly," Eliza said, taking a nice sort of vengeance in the fact that a complete stranger also disliked him; she felt validated, in a way.

A half hour later, Eliza was the leaving the museum. _Too bad Jane's not home_, Eliza thought sadly… it would have been the perfect opportunity to visit her. Sighing, Eliza made her way down the steps and was just about to cross the street to the bus stop when a voice called out behind her.

"Eliza! Wait a moment!"

Victoria hurried up behind her, her perfect blonde hair slightly escaping from its bun. She skidded to a halt next to Eliza and paused to catch her breath.

"What is it?" Eliza asked, checking her purse quickly to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

"I meant to give you this today," Victoria replied, handing Eliza a small sheet of thick, cream paper.

"It's the invitation to the gala… you need to RSVP by next Tuesday, so I thought I'd better give it to you as soon as possible," she explained.

Eliza flipped over the paper, and scanned the fine writing quickly… the gala was in two weeks, the Friday of opening weekend. She could bring a guest…

"Don't worry about the guest part, it isn't required," Victoria added quickly.

Eliza looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed. Was her nonexistent love life really that apparent? Victoria smiled, rather shakily, said goodbye and started walking back to the museum. Eliza sighed and tucked the invitation into her purse. Well, even if she couldn't find a date, she could at least find a kick-ass gown.

* * *

Darcy returned to his office from lunch with Rochester exhausted, both in body and mind. Charles never slowed down, not for an instant. And it certainly didn't help that his voice was a grating, high-pitched squeal that made one's ears hurt after only five minutes. His mind, on the other hand, had been working overtime ever since they had stepped foot into the gallery. On the one hand, he needed to pay attention to his client and to what sort of agreements they were reaching with Ms. Emerson; on the other, Eliza had proved to be much too distracting. Something had been amiss in her demeanor today; there had been no twinkle in her eye, and the one time he saw her smile it had been completely insincere. He had seen an entirely different side of her, and it was utterly captivating… so much so that he found it very difficult to remember what exactly had taken place business-wise that morning. Luckily, Rochester had taken dozens of notes, albeit half of them were chicken-scratch and completely illegible. 

Looking over Rochester's scribbles, Darcy couldn't help but feel disappointed that he had to spend time with Eliza. She diverted him from his work, and his work was his whole life. Thinking of her was useless; in a year, after he graduated, he would marry Anne. Anne was the perfect woman for him: she came from a noble family, had a good education, and had survived for years with his aunt, so she must have a strong disposition. After they married, she would look after the estate, and he could focus on his work. I love to work, Darcy thought to himself. Proving himself to be every inch as worthy as his father had been his life's goal since he had started college, and working day in and day out would eventually confirm that perhaps he was even _better_ than his father.

Besides, he thought for the millionth time, it was against his nature to feel this way about anyone, let alone a woman like Eliza. He just needed to get this one crush out of his system. Shaking his head, he focused on Rochester's notes, and smiled. They were so convoluted and illegible, they were sure to keep him occupied all night.

At six o'clock, Will was the last to leave the office. Locking the door, he breathed in the muggy summer evening air and began walking home. He was just about to decipher one of Rochester's cryptic notes when he ran headlong into someone.

"Oh, I apologize," he immediately said; he saw a flash of blonde hair, and then focused his eyes on the young woman bending down next to him, trying to recover the contents of her briefcase. He bent down as well, but she had already picked everything up; they straightened and the woman looked up at him.

"Will!"

Will had to take a moment to register the fact that in front of him stood Jane Bennet. He had never seen her dressed in a suit before, her hair pulled back into a twist. She smiled, as usual, and extended her hand.

"Jane, how lovely to see you," he said quickly, taking her hand. "What are you doing in this part of town?" he asked, moving them away from the center of the sidewalk.

"Oh, I was relocated to Manhattan," she said; Will noticed her smile was gone. "I just moved in with my aunt and uncle on Fifth."

"Ah," was all Will found to say. He found this situation very awkward, indeed. Should he mention Charles? He remembered Eliza's sarcastic tone that afternoon when he'd mentioned why they'd left Netherfield so soon. _Lied about why we left so soon, is more like it_, he thought.

It seemed Jane could feel the awkwardness of the situation, too, but she motioned for them to continue walking; after all, they were heading in the same direction.

"I… I'm sorry you all left so soon, there wasn't any time to say goodbye," she said. Will looked over at her, hoping to evaluate her expression. Her face, however, was smooth and calm, and Will nodded to himself… if he'd been wrong about her affection for Charles, surely she would look at least a little upset.

"Yes, well… we really should have planned ahead a little better. The last day of our vacation sort of snuck up on us," he said. He looked over again; despite his continuing conviction that Jane had never loved Charles, he couldn't help but be slightly put off by the sudden diffidence of her demeanor. During their time at the beach, he'd been amazed that one person could smile so much and not have their face break. Now she seemed cooler, more distant. But perhaps that's the way she was at work, he thought. Lots of people have different personalities for their work and home life.

"Understandable," she said.

They had reached Will's building. Jane did not look at the door, but again smiled at Will.

"Well… tell everyone I said hello," she said slowly. Will could tell she was just being polite.

"I certainly will," he replied.

Waving a hand, she walked away. Will sighed and walked into his building. What's done is done, he thought.

When he walked into the apartment, Charles was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"There you are, Darcy!" he said. "You're late… who'd you run into?" he asked with a smile.

Darcy shook his head. "No one," he said. "No one at all."

* * *

A/N: Deep sigh – finally! I've had this chapter half-done for a bunch of weeks and now I've finally had a horrible, rainy day to finish it! 

I feel like I'm always saying this, but I do apologize for the wait! College is ridiculously busy, but only two weeks until summer break! Not that that will afford me lots more time to write, but oh well.

Thank you everyone so much for reviewing – I love you all so much! I'm so happy people like this story, because it is SO much fun to write.

Next chapter, we'll fast forward to the gala – this story is actually turning out to be _longer_ than I'd originally planned! That doesn't happen very often… but I'm dying, as I'm sure you all are, to get to Rosings and all the fun stuff after it, but there's still a ways to go, sadly.

So _please_ review! We're over 100, which equals happy Nazgul Queen! But that's not even close to breaking my record for most reviews, so keep 'em coming! I _love_ to read what you guys think.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	13. Careful What You Wish For

Chapter 13 – _Careful What You Wish For_

_I looked at you, You looked me  
I smiled at you, You smiled at me  
And we're on our way, No we can't turn back, babe  
Yeah, we're on our way, And we can't turn back  
'Cause it's too late, Too late_

_The Doors_

"Why don't you just invite George?"

Eliza sighed; she was talking with Jane on the phone, and they were discussing the gala. Yes, she had thought of inviting George several times… but she still wasn't sure what exactly was going on between them. They had been playing phone tag ever since the day he hadn't met her for lunch.

"I suppose," Eliza replied wearily. It was Saturday, and she was exhausted from her first week of work. Rochester's demands got more ludicrous by the day, and now the museum's lawyers were getting involved. Friday had been particularly eventful, with lunch ending in a shouting match between Rochester and a member of the museum's board of directors. Darcy, on the other hand, just sat their calmly, taking notes. Not once did he raise his voice, but when he did intervene, his voice seemed to have a sort of calming effect on everyone, including, to her considerable irritation, Eliza. She suddenly smiled; she would love to see his face if she brought George with her to the gala.

"Actually, yes, I think I will invite him," Eliza said confidently.

"Good," Jane said. "So I'll see you at two?"

"Yes." They were going shopping for Eliza's dress.

"Alright… go call him, I'll see you then," Jane said.

"Bye," Eliza said, and hung up. Taking a deep breath, she kept the phone in her hand and dialed George's number.

"Hello?" came his raspy British accent.

"Hey, George, it's Eliza," she said, inadvertently biting her lip.

"Eliza!" she grinned to hear his excited voice. "Finally, we connect."

"I know… work's being crazy this week," she explained.

"Ah… you like it?" he asked.

She paused, pondering the question. "Yeah, I guess so. Actually, it's sort of the reason I'm calling."

"Ah."

"A new exhibit opens in two weeks, and they're having a gala opening weekend. And as a museum employee, I get the special privilege of bringing someone for free," she said. "And I was just wondering if you'd be interested?"

"That's how I'll get you to go out with me? If it's free?" he said jokingly. Eliza laughed, her stomach in a small knot.

"Yep, I'm a cheap date," she replied. It was his turn to laugh. "So?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered.

"Great! Now, it's black tie, so you'll have to wear a tux or a suit."

"I can do that… I look great in a tux, by the way," he said.

_I bet you do_, she thought. "Good to know," she said, and then paused. "Also, Darcy's going to be there," she said, hoping this wouldn't change his mind.

"Darcy? Will Darcy?" he asked, his voice lower.

"Yeah… he's the artist's lawyer so he's been around a lot."

"You mean you've been seeing him on a daily basis?"

"Unfortunately," she said.

There was a long pause. Then, George said, "Well, if he wants to avoid me, let him leave. I have nothing to hide."

She grinned, feeling very relieved. "Excellent. I'll see you then, then."

"You sure will," he said.

Eliza hung up feeling quite pleased with herself. Sure, it wasn't exactly a proper date, because they'd most likely have to be talking with other people all night, but it was a start… it was surely a lot more than she'd had in a long time.

Later that afternoon, Eliza met Jane in the city at Lord & Taylor's to start shopping. After Eliza assured Jane that she had indeed asked George to the gala and he'd said yes, they began talking about Jane.

"It's so wonderful… it really feels like I'm living alone. I mean, I'll eat dinner with them occasionally, but they couldn't care less one way or the other," Jane was saying as they made their way up the escalators. "I'll do my own laundry, clean my own room… I tried to get them to let me help out with the bills, but you know Aunt Anne and Uncle John."

Eliza nodded emphatically; she knew the Gardiners would never in a million years let Jane help out money-wise. She was surprised they were even letting her do her own laundry.

As Jane continued to sing the praises of her new life, Eliza kept one eye on the dresses and one eye on her sister. Was she imagining things, or did Jane's raptures seem a bit… forced? Perhaps she was overreacting… she hoped so.

"Eliza, you're barely looking!" Jane suddenly said. Eliza jerked out of her thoughts and looked fully at her sister. Jane's eyebrows narrowed slightly, and she sighed.

"Lizzie, _please_," she groaned, throwing a silk dress over her arm. "I am _fine._ Stop looking at me like that, it's annoying."

"I'm sorry, Jane," she said, hanging her head. "I'm just…"

"I know, but don't be. Don't worry about me… I really am over him," Jane said. "If he were to walk by me right this very second I could chat with him about the weather and be perfectly civil."

"Why would he be in the dress section?" Eliza asked mock-seriously.

This made Jane laugh, and the tension eased. Eliza focused her full attention on the myriad of dresses before her, feeling almost lightheaded. Fifteen minutes later, their arms loaded down with dresses, the girls made their way to dressing room.

As Eliza began to try on the dresses, Jane sat down.

"What do you think Darcy will do when he sees George at the gala?" Jane asked.

Eliza had barely pulled one dress over her head before she frowned and shook it back off.

"I don't know," she said, pulling on the next one. "Hopefully leave."

"Eliza," Jane admonished, carefully hanging up the dresses Eliza had rejected. Eliza, however, had just thought of something.

"Oh! I hope he doesn't bring Caroline," she groaned, throwing away another gown.

"Lizzie," Jane reproved again.

"I've half a mind to just snap her twiggy little neck in two," Eliza ranted on; her rage was only fueled by the sight of Jane just shaking her head.

"_Seriously_, Jane, you have to hate her just a little," Eliza yelped, struggling with a zipper. Jane stood up and pulled out the bit of fabric that Eliza had gotten caught by all of her commotion.

"Hatred is a very useless emotion, Lizzie," Jane said calmly. Eliza growled, but gave up. After several minutes and over a dozen dresses later, Eliza finally pulled on a strapless, silk charmeuse cobalt dress.

"Oh, Lizzie!" Jane immediately cried. "It's perfect!"

Eliza grinned to herself in the mirror – indeed, the dress _was_ perfect. They instantly decided to buy it, but it took Eliza several more minutes to take it back off.

"Well, I'd say that was successful," Jane said later as they were leaving the store.

"I quite agree," Eliza replied, linking her arm with her sister's.

Despite her several blocks-long of begging Jane to come home for dinner, Jane went back to the Gardiners' apartment to get ready for dinner with some friends from work. Eliza made her way home, eagerly peeking into her shopping bag every so often to look at her gorgeous dress.

* * *

Two work weeks came and went; the exhibition, for all of the furor, ended up coming together quite nicely. Rochester and Victoria finally struck up a deal: if Rochester gave her stencils and mouse pads, she would give him control over the placement of the paintings and no mugs. Eliza and her team of workers slaved away, and by Friday of opening weekend, the gallery looked lovely. Eliza had not seen hair or hide of Rochester or Mr. Darcy for several days, so she was actually quite calm and collected when they came to visit the gallery Friday afternoon while Victoria was not there.

As Rochester floated away to admire his own work, Darcy came back to Eliza after touring around the gallery.

"It looks very nice," he said slowly, as if the words tasted badly in his mouth. "Please thank the head of the artistic team for us."

She chuckled dryly. "I'll make sure to send myself flowers," she said, smiling as his eyes first narrowed and then widened.

"Ah… well, then thank _you_, Elizabeth," he said.

"_Eliza_," she said insistently. He nodded.

"I apologize… Eliza," he said.

Just then Victoria strode into the gallery; quite differently than two weeks prior, she smiled graciously and shook both Mr. Darcy's and Rochester's hands. She chatted with them for a bit while Eliza took the opportunity to sit and drink her third cup of coffee that day.

A few minutes later, Victoria joined Eliza on the bench. Darcy and Rochester were still milling about.

"Ah, Eliza, I've been meaning to ask you… will Mr. Wickham be having the beef or chicken?" Victoria asked. "If I hurry, I can still get his order in."

"Oh… the beef," Eliza said, hoping George wasn't some sort of vegetarian. Victoria nodded, patted Eliza's knee, and then stood and left the gallery. Eliza stood as well, seeing the large team of people preparing to get the hall ready for tonight's gala. Her eyes caught Darcy's for only a moment; his looked suddenly much harder and colder than merely ten minutes ago. She shrugged to herself as she left the gallery; Mr. Darcy, she found, was much too difficult to figure out.

* * *

_Damn him… damn him to hell!_

Will's thoughts had taken a sudden and very violent turn. Just as he was finishing a conversation with Ms. Emerson – still a dim woman, to be sure, but at least accommodating – she sat down with Eliza. It was then that he heard it – Eliza was coming to the gala tonight with that bastard Wickham. How could she? What was there to like about such a slimy, immoral man? Could she not see through his rather thin demeanor of affable charm and kindness? He would only hurt her… that was all he seemed capable of, hurting those around him. And Will really did not want to be around when he did.

He thought quickly of skipping the gala tonight, of just going home to London a day early to see his sister. But no, that would not be in good taste. Rochester was his client, and a client that he had invested a lot of time and effort in, as well. He couldn't let Charles down like that… and besides, Caroline would be more than irritatingly devastated if Will changed his mind. As soon as she had heard about the gala, she had assumed Will was going to invite her, and invite her he did. There would have only been grief and misery if he hadn't.

Trudging home, Will found his mind unpleasantly filled with thoughts of the many ways George could hurt Eliza. Will knew his ways much too well, and he knew it was often not just emotional pain that George Wickham caused.

Hours later, Will was dressed in a fine suit and waiting not so patiently for Caroline in the hall. The car had been downstairs and waiting for the past fifteen minutes – every two minutes or so, Caroline would call out "only one more minute!". Will's patience was quickly deteriorating.

Finally, at quarter to seven, Caroline emerged from her room. She was wearing a slinky black silk dress which emphasized every bone jutting out of her flesh. She smiled at Will, who was already halfway out the door.

"Oh Will, I'm really so flattered you invited me tonight," she cooed in the elevator.

Will was about to say "Who else would I invite?" but decided against it. Instead he said,

"You look lovely."

Caroline practically heaved and fluttered her eyelashes. "Thank you, Will. I just bought this dress yesterday… I really had nothing to wear…"

Caroline chattered on about her utter lack of clothing as they got into the car and set off for the museum. Her topic had switched to shoes for a brief moment when they pulled up to the Met.

"Oh, we're here," Will swiftly cut her off; she blinked for a moment, but then smiled and settled in her seat. Will groaned softly, but got out of the car and walked around her to her side. Opening the door, he took her bony hand and helped her out as she let her hand linger over his. Avoiding having to hold her hand, Will reached into his pocket to pull out the tickets and fairly raced to the door.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley," said the fellow taking their tickets. "Yes, you're seated at Table 2."

"Thank you," Darcy said, and rushed Caroline inside.

"Will, I know you want to show me off, but give me a minute to check my purse," Caroline said with a giggle. Will watched her walk away for only a moment before turning his eyes to the masses of people. He searched the crowd with his eyes, but did not see Eliza. He picked up a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by, and swigged it in one gulp. He was not quite sure what sort of state he would be in by the end of the night.

* * *

"Oh, Lizzie, you look fantastic!"

Jane had come to help Eliza prepare for the gala. Eliza made a strangled noise and cracked her knuckles again. George had not called her, even though she had left him easily three messages. She had hoped he would call to say he was picking her up, but it seemed they were going to just meet at the museum.

"Lizzie, stop worrying," Jane said calmly. "He'll be there."

"Yeah, I guess."

The truth was that there were butterflies in Eliza's stomach like she had never had before. Several images were running through her mind: Victoria's pleasure at meeting George, Darcy's face turning beet red upon seeing George… or Darcy's triumphant smirk when George did not show up. Eliza doubted she could stomach that smirk one more time… it grated at her nerves so badly she wished to just punch him every time it danced across his face.

"What if Caroline is there?" Eliza said, changing the subject. She watched Jane's eyes lower considerably as she stood from the bed and fiddled with Eliza's hair a bit more.

"Well… just don't embarrass me… or Mom," Jane said with a grin. Eliza smiled too, but did not press her sister. Jane was a strange creature; she was nurturing and loving, and yet so guarded. Eliza wondered at it often – how did she manage it?

An hour later, and Eliza was getting into a taxi around half past six. Her parents and Jane waved her off, and Eliza watched with a sinking heart as Mrs. Bennet immediately turned to her husband and whispered something in his ear; most like something to the effect of: _What on Earth are we going to do with her?_ Oh well, Eliza thought, sighing and facing front, at least her father would defend her.

A little after seven, she pulled up in front of the museum. A quick scan with the eyes proved that George was not waiting for her as she had hoped. Taking deep, even breaths, she paid the cabbie and strolled up the steps, stopping at the top one to idle a bit. She positively hated this feeling: every inch of her was screaming that she should not allow a man to take control of her emotions in this way. It completely went against everything she stood for. She was not some ninny to be taken in by a man's charms and good looks, and then to completely fall apart when he didn't reciprocate. _No_, she thought, _no, I will not become Lydia. I will not let just some guy turn me into a twit who sits around all day waiting for him to call. No!_

Bucking up her strength, she nodded to herself and turned to go inside. Just then, however, her phone rang. Completely flustered, she ravaged through her tiny clutch to pull it out, and then stood off to the side again to flip it open.

"Hello?" she asked eagerly.

"Hey, Liz, it's me."

It was George. Feeling torn between anger, relief, and excitement, Eliza forgot that under no circumstances was she to be called Liz.

"George, finally!" she said, then realized how desperate that sounded. "So, what's up? Where are you?" she asked more calmly.

"So sorry, love, I'm not going to be able to make it," he said, the phone crackling every so slightly.

Eliza's heart fell straight to her stomach. _Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

"Oh… well, that's…okay," she said weakly.

"I'm so sorry, I really am. A… a gig came up for us at the last moment, one we really couldn't pass up. I'm in Vegas," he went on.

"Vegas… wow," Eliza said halfheartedly.

"Yeah, so… I'll make it up to you."

"Sure."

A click signaled he had hung up. Eliza slammed her phone shut, unsure whether to be angrier at George or herself. She stood fuming for a few moments, thinking of leaving. But no, of course she couldn't leave… she had put a lot of work into this exhibition, and besides, Victoria would be upset if she never showed. Taking a deep breath, Eliza turned back toward the doors and made her way inside. She caught a glimpse of Darcy from far away; sure enough, there was that bat next to him. Groaning, Eliza turned her back on them and went into the gallery. She found Victoria easily enough, and was immediately inundated with introductions. This was a pleasant enough alternative to her raging emotions, so she immersed herself in meeting as many people as she could.

A few minutes before eight, Eliza excused herself to the ladies room before dinner. As the din of the crowd faded away, Eliza's thoughts, unfortunately, came back. Pausing to examine herself in the full-length mirror, Eliza sighed and smoothed her electric-blue dress. The strapless floor-length gown floated away ever so slightly near the bottom, and the piping on the torso gave the illusion that she actually had some curves. She had worn her hair straight for once with a few wavy wisps near her face. All things considering, she was not a repulsive human being to look at. No, she did not have the biggest rack, nor the most chiseled cheekbones, but her body was in great shape thanks to her yoga and Pilates. Her face was pretty enough, especially when she smiled. So what exactly was lacking that men did not seem to stay interested for more than few days? As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. No, she did not want to be the girl who became a dithering mess whenever men were near, but it would be nice to know that someone noticed. Anyone.

* * *

Dinner could not have come soon enough. After five glasses of champagne, Caroline had noticed Darcy's ever-so-slight tipsiness and had insisted he stop. For once he was grateful for her watching him like a hawk, and he settled on water for the remainder of the evening. He had yet to see Eliza, but after all that champagne, his thoughts had almost entirely turned to food. That was, until he sat down at their designated table. His mind had wandered off from Caroline's blathering, and his eyes followed. Just then, Eliza walked into the room next to Victoria. She was wearing a beautiful satin blue dress, but all Will could think was _God I hope she sits at our table. _He could certainly use some sensible conversation.

But then it dawned on him, as if he had just drank one his aunt's infamous tomato and banana juice hangover cocktails. Eliza had walked in with _Victoria._ Not a greasy-haired, slimy Wickham in sight! He sat back in his chair in utter relief. Perhaps she had finally come to her senses and seen George for the spineless bastard he was. What was more likely, however, judging from the look on her face, was that George had simply not shown up. Will growled – indeed, it was rather Wickham-esque to leave people hanging high and dry. _Well, perhaps not _dry, Will thought vehemently.

Unfortunately, Eliza followed Victoria to a table several yards away. Darcy sighed and smiled halfheartedly at Caroline, who had attempted a joke. This Eliza-thing was quite tiresome. If she wished to fancy George, what could he do about it? He felt quite content at that moment to forget her entirely – indeed, after tonight it was quite likely he would never see her again. Of course, he had thought that when he'd left Netherfield, too.

* * *

Luckily, Eliza had been able to avoid Darcy and Caroline so far. Sitting down to dinner, Eliza quickly forgot all her silly thoughts from in the bathroom. Why, just now, the young man across the table was eye-flirting with her. She smiled to herself as she felt her normal emotions return. No, she was not going to let George's standing her up completely reverse her entire way of thinking. She'd had a weak moment, and it had passed.

Dinner was delicious, and afterwards followed a nice speech by the head of the board of directors. Fortunately – and probably purposely – Rochester did not get up to speak, but instead smiled and waved from his seat as the crowd politely applauded. As dessert wound down, the guests made their way to the exhibition to take in Rochester's scenic watercolors.

Eliza wandered a bit away from Victoria when they entered the exhibition; she wanted to enjoy seeing other people enjoy her work. Indeed, as she passed an elderly couple, she heard, "Oh, Whitman! What a nice touch." She grinned as she made her way through the gallery; she felt quite proud as she looked on the exhibition. And she had enjoyed it so much… well most of it, at least. But if dealing with insufferable people like Darcy and ridiculous artists like Rochester were the worst parts of the job, then Eliza felt certain she had just found herself the perfect dream job.

"Not the most mind-blowing art I've ever seen, but it is tolerable. Good form."

Eliza glanced over her shoulder to find Darcy at her side, his tall, solid figure almost like a wall, protecting her from the hordes of people trying to pass. She shrugged.

"Yes well, all art is quite useless," she commented shortly. He chuckled appreciatively.

There was a long, horridly uncomfortable pause.

"Actually, Eliza, I really should apologize," Darcy said after awhile.

Eliza turned to stare at him. Apologize, really?

"I was wrong about the stencils. They look very nice," he said, still looking straight ahead. Eliza felt disappointed; she never trusted an apology that didn't come with eye contact.

"Yes, well… no need," she said coldly.

She watched his eyes harden every so slightly as he looked down at her.

"I see your date isn't here," he said.

Ouch. That stung.

"Perhaps he didn't feel comfortable," she retorted.

"Perhaps he was afraid," he slung back ever so casually.

"Yes, for his physical well-being," she said. They were facing each other squarely now.

"You should not be friends with him," Darcy said, he voice husky and low.

"He needs more friends like me after having friends like you," she growled.

"Yes, Wickham has that charming ability to make friends quite easily. Whether or not he can keep them is another question," he replied with a sarcastic raise of his eyebrow.

Her mouth fell slightly agape at his curt coldness.

"Yes, he's been _so_ very unfortunate to lose your friendship, although I'm sure he feels the burden of it every day of his life."

"Indeed, Eliza, I hope he does," Darcy said with contempt etched into his face.

"_You_ are the cause of all his troubles and yet you speak of him with scorn and sarcasm!"

"Oh yes, Wickham's _troubles_ have been enormous," he said, his eyes burning with fury now.

Eliza opened her mouth to retort with some vile and vicious, but closed it again. No, she sternly reminded herself, no she was not going to stoop to his cruel level. Instead, she smiled upon seeing Caroline making her way towards them.

"Yes, well, I suppose you don't need any more friends anyway. You've got Caroline," she said with a wicked smile, and then scampered away before Caroline reached her.

The night having been ruined by Darcy bringing Wickham back to the forefront of her thoughts, Eliza said a quick goodbye to Victoria and then left the museum. The air had cooled off ever so slightly outside, and she took a few minutes to walk around a bit. At the end of the day, she thought, Wickham did not mean too much to her. After all, she barely knew him, and had only spoken to him a few times. But to think that Darcy had cut him off like that, with absolutely nothing, only the clothes on his back… well, she couldn't help but defend him. All Darcy had done tonight was prove that not only was George's story true, but that he felt proud of himself for cutting off George, the stain on his perfect blueblood family.

After a half an hour of processing her thoughts, Eliza wearily caught a cab. Her parents were asleep when she returned home at half past ten, and Jane, unfortunately, had already gone back to Manhattan. Eliza collapsed onto her bed, not wanting to quite take her dress off yet. Reaching over to turn on her radio, Eliza sighed and burrowed her face in the pillows. Hopefully a good night's sleep would fade away her thoughts.

* * *

Will could not have been more grateful to Eliza for riling him up like that. Feeling angry at her was such a relief – of course, he knew that George had clearly fed her a huge pile of lies, but if she could not see through his façade, then surely she had less intelligence than he had given her credit for. He sighed and gladly accepted Caroline's company. After tonight, he would never see Eliza again, and his memory of her would be of nothing more than simpleton.

* * *

A/N: Finally! The chapter is finished. As is my first year of college (3.65 GPA thank you very much). It went by so quickly! And I still have no idea what I'm going to major in! Woo! Next semester, however, I am taking a fiction writing class, so I'm very excited for sophomore year.

Well, I have the same summer job as last year, a 9-5 type of job which severely limits my writing time, so don't get too excited. However, I will have time in the evenings and on weekends, so chapters should be coming out at least slightly more quickly than during the school year.

This chapter was a lot of fun to write, mostly because I got to stare at pretty dresses for hours trying to find one for Eliza (yes, I found an actual dress – it's by David Meister, and you can see it on his website under Evening Gowns.) Next chapter we will fast forward to probably October, where YES we will find out how Charlotte and Collins end up together (which they will! Well, not married, but together).

So please review! I love you all _so _much… reviews are so much fun to get! And please don't hesitate to ask me to clarify anything you find confusing (I tend to do a lot of inside jokes and allusions) or give me suggestions – I love to use the little "reply to this review" feature.

Oh and also, when Eliza says "Well, all art is quite useless," she's quoting Oscar Wilde. Who is fabulous and you all should read as much of his work as possible.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	14. Try to Remember

Chapter 14 – _Try to Remember_

_Several months later… late October, to be exact_

"Eliza, you're driving yourself crazy. You really ought to slow down."

Winter had come early this year, bringing blustery winds and freezing temperatures before even Halloween. Unfortunately, a blizzard of midterms had come upon Eliza as well, and she was driving herself quite mad studying for them.

"I have to get an A in this class, Charlotte, I just have to!" She was speaking to Charlotte, whom she had not seen since mid-August. No matter how many times Charlotte tried to get Lizzie to meet her for lunch, something always came up.

"You will, Lizzie," Charlotte said, exasperated.

"But I have to be one hundred percent sure. If I get an A in the class, then I'll have a high enough GPA to graduate with honors," Eliza said, collapsing onto a couch. She was in the library, as usual, in her normal corner where she was rarely bothered. She had two ten-page papers and two midterm tests coming up, and had thought several times of just bringing a pillow and sleeping in the library.

Charlotte sighed. "Lizzie, I really do have something important to tell you. Can you stop studying for an hour and just meet me for drinks at least?"

_Drinks_. Alcohol sounded pretty good to Eliza right about now. She groaned and slammed her books shut.

"Alright. Where?"

An hour later, Eliza was walking to a bar close to the library. Somehow she had managed to make herself look presentable, throwing on jeans and wrapping herself in a thick turtleneck and peacoat. Bitterly cursing the wind, she practically ran into the bar and straight to where Charlotte was sitting at a booth.

"God I hate the wind," Eliza said with a grin as Charlotte hopped up to hug her. It was good to see Charlotte, who looked far more put-together than Eliza in an elegant cashmere sweater.

"This weather is awful, isn't it?" Charlotte said as they sat down. Eliza nodded vehemently.

"Thanks for taking a break to see me," she continued.

Eliza smiled. "Well, I was in desperate need of one."

"I'm so glad I'm done with all that," Charlotte said with a chuckle. Charlotte was three years older than Eliza, and although she had majored in biology in school and had hoped to go to medical school, her father had twisted her arm to get her to work for the family company. He had insisted it was only temporary, until she saved up some money of her own for medical school, but somehow, three years and several nonexistent paychecks later, Charlotte was still living at home.

"Charlotte, you can still go to med school," Eliza said with a pointed look; it had always saddened her that Charlotte had never gone through with her dream.

To her surprise, Charlotte grinned and said, "I know."

Eliza gasped, nearly sending her cosmo off the side of the table. "You're doing it! You're going!"

Charlotte continued to grin. "Yes."

Eliza leaned back in her seat, overcome with excitement for her friend. "I knew your father would come around and pay for it."

"Well, actually…" Charlotte trailed off, her grin sliding off her face.

Eliza gasped again. "You're making a break for it! You finally told your dad to piss off and you're moving to the city!"

"Sort of," Charlotte said, looking apprehensive. Eliza frowned, puzzled by Charlotte's behavior. What was going on?

"I _am_ moving to the city for school," Charlotte said. "And no, my father isn't paying for it."

"But I thought-?" Eliza stammered; she knew Charlotte had very little money of her own.

"Lizzie, I'm asking you as a friend to please hear me out and save your comments until after I am finished," Charlotte said carefully.

Eliza nodded. "Of course."

Charlotte took a deep breath and then began, "In July, when you were busy with your internship, you dumped Tom, remember?"

_Tom?_ Eliza thought. _Tom Collins?_ _What the hell does he have to do with this?_

"Um, yeah," Eliza said slowly.

"Well, the following week he asked me to the opera. I said yes because… well, I really wanted to see the opera and it was the closing night, so…" she paused for a brief moment, then plowed on. "Then he asked me to the ballet, and then the theatre, and then to the Hamptons… I didn't really mind his company, and he kept buying me so many gifts, so I just sort of went along with it."

By this point, Eliza's chin was on the table. Her mind was working overtime trying to process what Charlotte was saying to her. _Tom? Charlotte? What?_

"I met that Lady Catherine of his last month… oh, Lizzie, wait until you see her. She's like a character from a movie just sort of leapt out of the screen and sat down next to you. She's positively _terrifying_… but she said she liked me by the end of the night, so I must have done something right. Then – you'll never believe this, Lizzie – the next week she asked me to have dinner with her in the city, without Tom. The moment we sit down she says to me, Charlotte, what will it take to get you to move in with Tom in the city? I have no idea what to say, so she asks me what I want most in the entire world. I say, well, I want to go to medical school to become a doctor. She says, done. I'm like, what do you mean, done? So she says – get this, Lizzie! – she says, if you move in with Tom in the city, I will pay for you to go to Columbia Medical School."

Eliza had forgotten entirely about her drink. She hadn't blinked in easily over a minute. She was still trying to process the idea that Charlotte had actually gone out with Tom in the first place, and now Charlotte was telling her that Lady Catherine was paying Charlotte off to live with Tom? _What the hell is going on?_

"And you said yes, obviously?" Eliza stuttered.

"Of course! I mean, I know it's probably not the most moral thing to do, but I really don't mind Tom… he's not really as disgusting with me as he was with you…"

As Charlotte chattered on about Tom's saving graces, Eliza was still sorting out everything Charlotte was saying to her. Her gut reaction – but probably not one she should share with Charlotte – was disbelief that anyone would live with Tom Collins, even if they were getting paid. She had almost forgotten Tom until this moment, but every memory made her cringe. Her second thought was that yes, it most certainly was _not_ the most moral thing for Charlotte to do. Using a guy just to have his wealthy patroness pay for school? It was so cliché – something right out of a bad romantic comedy. But her final thought, and one which she thought she could share with Charlotte, was that if this is what it took to get Charlotte out of her parents' house and into medical school, then it had to be worth it.

Charlotte had settled into an awkward silence and was looking at Eliza with anxiety bordering on defiance.

"Lizzie, I know –" she began but Eliza cut her off with a raised hand.

"Charlotte, anything that gets you on your own and into medical school is fine by me," Eliza said, laying a hand on Charlotte's.

Charlotte grinned again and squeezed Lizzie's hand. "Thank you," she said.

Eliza finally turned her attention to her drink, and, hoping Charlotte wouldn't notice, downed it in one gulp.

"Well, now that we have that out of the way, I have a favor to ask," Charlotte said.

"Anything," Eliza said.

"Will you come stay with us over winter break?" she asked hopefully. "The apartment is huge and Tom's working all the time, and I don't start school until spring, so…"

Eliza smiled as another drink was set down next to her. "Of course."

* * *

"Adjudicate." 

"To resolve judicially through a court judge."

"Qui tam."

"US citizens can take legal action on behalf of the government through lawsuits."

"Additur."

"Power of a trial court to increase the damage award made by a jury. Honestly, Georgia, if you're not even going to challenge me, you may as well go home."

By the end of the summer, Will had decided that the only thing to take his mind off of things was to increase his course load for the fall. If he took two extra classes, numbering six total, he could graduate in January instead of May, and move straight to London. It had certainly been a successful plan, but now he was paying the price, as midterms and finals started sneaking up on him.

"You know _everything_, Will… we've gone through all your notes and all your books!" Georgia cried, tossing aside his notebook. She had come to visit for a long weekend, but had ended up being sucked into helping Will study. She sat cross-legged on the couch in his library, her thin, petite body wrapped tightly in a fleece blanket. Will groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's impossible to know _everything_, Georgia," he reminded her sternly.

"Well, apparently you've been wrong all these years," she said with a smile. Flipping her brilliantly blonde hair over one shoulder, she tossed his notebooks at his feet.

"Go ahead, look through them. I've asked you everything," she said.

Will looked at his watch – 6:30! His first exam was in less than twenty hours; he picked up a notebook at his feet and began flipping through it.

"No, Will!" Georgia suddenly cried, ripping it from his hand. "Food. You need food," she said, and then grabbing his wrist, began to pull him downstairs to the kitchen.

Forcing him into a chair, Will watched as his sister rooted around through the freezer for awhile before producing two frozen pizzas. He rolled his eyes, but sat back in his chair, running through his vocabulary list in his mind.

"Stop it," Georgia said a minute later when she sat down across from him. "I can tell you're still studying."

"Georgia, I have to pass these tests," he said for the thousandth time.

"And you _will_," Georgia said with a sigh. "But this is my last day here and we still have not have said one word about anything besides legal mumbo jumbo."

Will sighed and looked at his sister. "I'm sorry, Georgia. I know I've been no fun this weekend."

She laughed. "Oh Will," she said, patting his hand. "You're never fun, brother."

He laughed, too, even though the comment slightly stung.

"You know who I still want to meet?" Georgia said, standing and pouring them two glasses of water.

"Who?"

"That Eliza you were going on about a few months ago. Whatever happened to her?"

Will's internal studying stopped stone cold. He had not thought or spoken of Eliza in a while. Every once in awhile, he would see something or think of something that he longed to share with her, and that would bring back all the emotions and thoughts that he had tried to bury. Not seeing her on a regular basis had certainly put her out of his head, but it was those little moments when something reminded him of her, or he thought he heard her laugh, and he would start to hope that maybe he would turn a corner and she'd be standing there. Whether she still dated Wickham he didn't know, but his gut told him no. She was too intelligent… his resolve to think ill of her after that night at the museum had dissolved quickly. Instead, he had resolved to not think of her at all… and for the most part, he had succeeded.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I haven't seen her in a very long time."

Georgia frowned as she sat back down and handed him a glass of water.

"You didn't stay in touch?" she said, sounding disappointed. "_She_ sounded like fun."

Will smiled a little, lost in his thoughts. "She was."

Georgia was silent a moment, sensing she was overstepping her boundaries.

"So, how's Charles?" she said, changing the subject.

Will turned back to his sister, glad for the change of topic.

"Fine… he should be back any minute now actually," he said. The truth was, Will thought sadly, was that Charles was not exactly fine. Sure, he was as kind and decent as ever, but he had lost the bounce in his step. Will couldn't possibly believe that he was still upset over Jane, and had been trying to figure it out tactfully ever since he had first noticed it.

Georgia nodded, but the conversation stalled. Will relapsed back into his thoughts while Georgia stood and took the pizzas out of the oven. There, sitting at his little kitchen table, Will suddenly realized how much he had missed Eliza the past several months. His only consolation was that perhaps, somewhere, Eliza was thinking about him, too.

* * *

"This is ridiculous. Absolutely _ridiculous_!" 

Her books left forgotten on the floor, Eliza had immediately called Jane as soon as she returned from drinks with Charlotte.

"I don't know, Lizzie… she must see something you didn't," Jane said.

Eliza sighed and fell onto her friend Kate's couch, where she was crashing for the next several days.

"I guess so," she replied slowly, but she wasn't sure that was entirely possible. Tom had certainly seemed like a one-layer, shallow kind of guy. Eliza couldn't blame him for going after Charlotte; indeed, it was a step up from Eliza in most ways – Charlotte was far wealthier, and her family had an impeccable reputation. But for Charlotte, this was several steps down. She deserved so much more than Tom.

"Besides, it can't be forever, right? It's not like she's marrying him. She'll go to school, become a doctor, and then move on," Jane said reasonably.

This comforted Eliza… Jane was right, as usual. If nothing else, Charlotte was finally getting to go to med school. Eliza just hoped and prayed that she did _not_ have to sleep with that disgusting creep.

Eliza was jolted from her thoughts by a beeping noise from her phone.

"Hold on, Jane, I have another call," she said to her sister, then transferred lines.

"Hello?"

"How could you do it? How could you do this to me? I am your mother, do you have no respect at all?"

So it begins, Eliza thought. She leaned back on a pillow and propped open a notebook as her mother screeched on. It was the usual ranting – Eliza had let the family down by letting Tom go, and had also embarrassed them by letting Charlotte have him instead. Eliza made no sound of protest, and after several minutes, her mother gave up and handed the phone to her father.

"Hello, darling," he said calmly.

"Hey, Dad," Eliza replied.

"Good job, Lizzie, you've tired your mother out. Hopefully she will rest in silence for the rest of the evening."

Eliza chuckled.

"Oh Lizzie… I would have never spoken to you again if you had even considered dating that man," her father went on.

"Good thing I didn't, then," Eliza said.

"But honestly, Lizzie, when is it going to be your turn to have your heart broken? Jane's still is, even though she won't admit it, and Lydia is currently eating an entire pint of ice cream watching some awful show on the TV, moaning about some young man named Rusty."

Eliza laughed. "I don't know, Dad."

"Come on, Lizzie, every girl's got to go through it. What happened to that Wickham fella? I'm sure he would have done a fine job."

Eliza didn't answer right away. She had almost forgotten about George; she hadn't spoken to him in months. After the gala at the museum, she had never been able to bring herself to call him, and he never called her. She had just sort of let it go, as her job and then school captured all her attention.

"I don't know… I haven't talked to him in awhile," she replied.

"Oh well… you'll find someone, I'm sure."

"Hey Dad, while I have you on the phone…"

Eliza ended up spending an hour on the phone with her father while he helped her sort out a few of the more difficult aspects of her Human Rights in Culture paper. When she hung up, she could tell she had put her father in a much better mood; he loved helping her out with her studies.

Two weeks later, Eliza was finally finished with all her tests and papers… until finals, of course, but she still had a month and a half until then. As a celebration for finishing midterms, Jane decided to take Eliza to the ballet.

"Well, congratulations, Lizzie. Only one more round of midterms to go," Jane said as they sat in the cab.

Eliza sighed and smiled. She couldn't believe she was less than six months away from being completely done with college. She had already been accepted by the NYU graduate school, during which she planned to study art history and conservation. How she was going to pay for it yet… well, she'd figure it out.

"I'm old," Eliza said jokingly. Jane laughed and settled back in her seat.

"Not as old as me, dear," she said, patting Eliza's hand.

They chatted about this and that until the taxi pulled up at Lincoln Center. Making their way inside, Jane immediately had to go to the ladies room, as usual, so Eliza went to find their seats. She was about to make her into the row when she heard an ominously familiar voice behind her.

"I told Marie, if I wanted to look like some shoddy, bourgeois twit, I'd shop at a _mall_, for heaven's sake. I don't come to a Milan boutique to be treated like a Hilton sister."

Eliza turned her head quickly and tried to get in to her seat. Unfortunately, the man on the end of the row didn't notice her desperate attempts to get past him, and stayed glued in his seat. By that time, however, Eliza felt a cold, bony hand clasp around her wrist.

"Eliza Bennet."

Eliza took a deep breath and then turned around. Sure enough, there was Caroline Bingley, a large, vapid smile stretched across her plastic-like face. Next to her stood her sister, Louise, who was staring at Eliza as if she had never seen her before.

"Caroline, how nice to see you," Eliza said with a fake smile.

"And you, Eliza," Caroline said. She swept her eyes up and down Eliza's frame; Eliza could just see her thoughts turning in disgust at Eliza's brown tweed pants and violet v-neck sweater. _How hopelessly plain, _Eliza could hear Caroline's slow British monotone say.

"Are you all alone?" Caroline asked, searching around.

Eliza bit her lip. What to do? Should she tell Caroline, the cruel bitch who broke her sister's heart, that Jane was here? She could just see Caroline rhapsodizing about her brother's new perfect girlfriend… or worse, say that Charles was engaged already. Better not, and take her chances.

"No… I'm here with a friend," Eliza said; well, technically it was the truth.

"Ah." There was an awkward pause. "It's not that George Wickham, is it?" Caroline asked.

Eliza's eyes narrowed. "No, why?"

"You really shouldn't believe a word that man says. I don't know the particulars, but he committed a heinous crime against William some years ago," Caroline said.

William? _Ugh, Darcy_, Eliza thought with a groan. She had forgotten all about him, but the mention of his name reminded her of all _his_ heinous crimes. She wondered if Caroline had won him over yet.

"Forgive me, Caroline, but I think you're mistaken," she said coldly. Caroline's eyes turned to ice and she straightened her back a little.

"Fine, believe what you want. I was only trying to help," she said with a glare.

By this time the lights were flickering and Eliza saw Jane making her way down the aisle.

"Well, goodbye Caroline," Eliza said quickly.

"Goodbye," Caroline said, and then turned on her heel and marched away. Eliza hurried in to her seat, and a minute later, Jane sat down next to her.

"Were you talking to someone?" Jane whispered as the lights went down.

Eliza just shrugged and kept her eyes on the stage. "No one."

* * *

_Georgia was right_, Will thought with a sigh as he left his last test. He had breezed through all of his exams without so much as a pause. However, now began the real challenge: studying for his bar exam. 

As Will walked into his building, his eye caught the Metropolitan Museum of Art across the way, where Charles Rochester's exhibit was still being shown. He sighed as he walked inside; Eliza had flittered in and out of his thoughts for the past few weeks, ever since Georgia had mentioned her. He couldn't help but wonder how her last year of college was going, and what she had planned for next year. By then, he would be in London at his firm's main office, an entire ocean away. Perhaps the distance would help, he thought hopefully.

Much to his chagrin, Caroline was lounging in his sitting room when he entered the apartment. It was quite late on a Saturday night, and judging from her clothing, she had just returned from one form of the theatre or another.

"Hello, Caroline."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned off the television.

"Will! Hi," she said, noticeably straightening out her dress so that it fell a little lower on her chest. Will rolled his eyes and hung up his coat.

"Will, you will not believe who I saw at the ballet tonight," Caroline said, springing up from the couch and following him to the kitchen.

"Who?" Will said dully, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"You probably don't even remember her, I mean, it took _me_ at least five minutes to place her name," she droned on.

"_Who_, Caroline?"

"Eliza Bennet. Remember, from the beach? She had that God-awful family… heavens, remember her mother?"

Will sighed. Of course.

"Remember how rude and impertinent she was?" Caroline went on.

Will raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly."

"Oh. Well, you will not believe what she said to me. I told her to stay away from that Wickham, and she _defended_ him! What on Earth do you think he said to her?"

"She was there with Wickham?" Will said quickly, his blood pounding in his brain.

"No, just some friend," Caroline said, looking surprised. Will let out his breath, very relieved. Somehow, the thought of Wickham and Eliza still managed to make him go blind with fury.

"But honestly, Will… I thought you said he did something wrong to you."

"He did," Will growled. "But I'm sure he's made up some batch of lies to tell everyone."

"How awful," Caroline purred, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. Will clenched and moved away from her. Someday, Caroline was going to be very disappointed when Will married Anne… or, perhaps, someone else. Someone… unexpected.

* * *

A/N: Woo! That was a pretty quick update – for me, anyway. I know, a bit of a filler chapter, but guess what? Next chapter is Rosings time! Now, don't get too excited, we're still two chapters away from more Eliza-Darcy-ness, and three chapters away from the "proposal", but still. I'm excited! So expect about the same time for another update, because I am all over writing these next few chapters. 

So please review! (Please please please please) Reviews mean inspiration which means faster updates!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen

P.S. I'm not exactly an expert on law school, but I'm pretty sure you go to law school, get your J.D., then take the bar exam. If anyone knows for sure, I'd really appreciate the knowledge! Thanks!


	15. The Fine Art of Awkward

Chapter 15 – _The Fine Art of Awkward_

Fall semester came and went almost too quickly – as predicted, Eliza had aced every exam along the way. Although she tried to keep it to herself, she was quite elated. However, something else had also snuck up on her: her visit with Charlotte. From their phone calls, Charlotte sounded happy enough but very anxious for Eliza to arrive. Eliza was leaving tomorrow, the day after Christmas, and would stay until the first week of January. Eliza wasn't quite sure how she felt about it yet; on the one hand, she was very happy to be spending time with Charlotte, whom she had missed dearly for several months now. On the other, she was going to be spending time with _Tom_ again, an event she would have rather not repeated.

Following the family's traditional ham dinner, Eliza trudged upstairs to begin packing. Jane joined her, bringing up their several gifts.

"Lizzie, I have to admit something," Jane said as she sat down on her old bed.

"What's that?" Eliza asked, pulling out her largest suitcase from the closet.

"This seems like it might be a bit… awkward," Jane said with a tentative smile.

Eliza laughed dryly, haphazardly throwing things into the suitcase. She had never been one for folding.

"To put it mildly," she said. She had tried not to think of how this visit was going to go; true, Charlotte had assured her repeatedly that Tom was _not_ going to be around much, and they would only see him for dinner. But even dinner was too much for Eliza – what on Earth would they all talk about?

"But… I am not doing this for me, I'm doing it for Charlotte," Eliza went on, shoving some underwear into the suitcase. "I haven't seen her in forever, and she sounds so lonely every time I talk to her."

Jane sighed and nodded. "I know. But I really think you may have broken that poor guy's heart… it'll be so uncomfortable."

Eliza laughed. "Broke his heart? Please, Jane."

"I mean it, Lizzie. You should have seen his face when he left our room that day."

Eliza clucked her tongue. The idea that _she_ could ever break anyone's heart was highly amusing.

"Fine, don't believe me," Jane said, throwing up her hands. Instead she held up a furry sweater complete with pom-pom balls Lydia had given Eliza for Christmas. "You want to take this with you?"

* * *

Next day, Eliza was standing on Fifth Avenue in front of the rather imposing Pierre Hotel. _I cannot believe Charlotte lives here_, Eliza thought breathlessly. Any apartment in here was at least 35 million dollars. At least! 

"Ma'am, can I assist you?"

The doorman jerked Eliza from her thoughts; she closed her agape jaw and focused on him.

"Oh yes, sorry… I'm here to see Charlotte Lucas and Tom Collins in apartment 10A. They're expecting me," she stuttered as he led her into the spectacular lobby.

"Of course. Just one moment," he said. Eliza made a full circle, trying to take in her new lavish settings. Sure, her house was large compared to most, but nothing on Long Island came close to this.

"Miss Bennet?"

Again, Eliza hopped to find someone looking at her quizzically. "Oh! Yes, that's me," she said to the gentleman standing in front of her.

"Right this way," he said, gesturing to the elevators.

"Oh, right," she said and turned to pick up her suitcase… except it wasn't there.

"Oh! My suitcase!" she exclaimed, searching around for it frantically.

"Miss! Miss!" the gentleman said, taking her elbow. "We've already sent it upstairs," he said, a hint of a smile at his mouth.

"Oh," she breathed, feigning wiping sweat off her brow. "That's a relief."

She followed the gentleman to the elevator, which they took to the tenth floor. The doors opened on a lovely lobby with wood floors and a small chandelier. The gentleman led her to a door slightly off the left, and rapped his knuckles just below the 10A. It was opened by a hesitant-looking maid.

"This is –" the gentleman started to say, but he was interrupted by Charlotte flying through the door and throwing herself onto Eliza.

"Lizzie!" she cried in excitement. The gentleman just shrugged and went back into the elevator, while the maid held the door open for Eliza and Charlotte as they made their way inside.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm so happy to see you," Charlotte said with a grin. Eliza couldn't help but grin, too, infected by Charlotte's enthusiasm.

"Me too!" Eliza said, before taking a moment to look around. "Charlotte, this is ridiculous. You're living at _The Pierre!_"

"I know!" Charlotte cried, clapping happily. "Isn't it beautiful?"

It sure was. The foyer was decorated in cream and gold and led into a gorgeous octagonal gallery, which was decorated by a few paintings. Charlotte excitedly showed Lizzie around; each room was grander than the last. First there was the wooded, plush library, then the huge living room, complete with piano and four separate clusters of chairs and couches; then came the dining room, which had a long, glistening wooden table and a sparkling chandelier; off of that was the kitchen, decorated all in white. Then Charlotte showed her the master bedroom, which not only had a Jacuzzi in the bathroom, but two separate walk-in closets complete with TV's and sitting areas. Finally, Charlotte showed Eliza her guest suite, which was right off the media room. Her room was beautifully furnished in cream and mint green, with a huge, lush bed, a handsome wardrobe, and a chaise lounge. Plus it had its own deluxe bathroom and a computer area. Eliza was in heaven.

"I may never leave, Charlotte," she said to her friend, falling back onto the bed.

Charlotte giggled and joined her. "I know, isn't it just amazing?"

"And Mrs. De Bourgh is paying for all of this?"

"_Lady Catherine_, Lizzie. Don't you dare call her Mrs. De Bourgh," Charlotte said, only half-joking.

Eliza just laughed. "Right, like I'll ever actually _meet_ her."

Charlotte gasped. "Lizzie, didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"You will meet Lady Catherine. She'll be in New York by Friday, and she's staying two weeks. Oh, Lizzie, wait until you see her penthouse upstairs. This place will look like an absolute dump after you've been there."

"Wait a second. Lady Catherine lives in The _Pierre_ _penthouse_?" Eliza asked amazedly. As any good New Yorker knew, the penthouse at the Pierre was perhaps the most spectacular penthouse anywhere in the world. Eliza couldn't even imagine how much it must cost.

Charlotte nodded gleefully. "It's exactly what everyone says it is and more, Lizzie. I'm so excited for you to see it!"

Before Eliza could ask anymore, the maid was at the door.

"Miss Charlotte, Mr. Collins is in the library," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Greta," Charlotte said, standing up.

"Charlotte, you have _maids_!"

* * *

Another Christmas has come and gone, Darcy thought. Although he would have liked to at last have Christmas in his own home at Pemberley, his aunt had insisted upon he and Georgia joining her and their entire extended family for Christmas at her estate. Georgia was still young enough to be lavished with gifts, and had certainly not complained too much about going. Darcy would have hated it horribly, but his cousin Richard was going to be there, too, whom he had not seen in some time. 

"God, Darcy, what is with you? I've beaten you five times in a row," Richard was saying as he yet again crushed Will at a game of pool. Will growled and went to set the balls up again.

"Again?" Richard asked in disbelief. "Fine, but you've been warned."

Will didn't answer but instead leaned over to try and get a good shot. Richard, however, was not through talking.

"Seriously, Will, something's on your mind. I haven't beaten you at pool since we were eleven, and that was only because I wasn't even as tall as the stick yet," he said.

Will growled again and straightened. What _was_ wrong? He had finished his law degree without any difficulty, had passed the bar exam in London just fine, and was assuredly going to do the same in New York, whenever he got around to it. He was going to graduate in just two weeks, and then finally start working at his firm. Everything was going perfectly to plan… but something was still wrong.

"I don't know," he said to Richard. "Can we just play?"

Richard was opening his mouth to retort, when suddenly their aunt swept into the room. She was followed, as usual, by Anne, who gave Will the most timid of smiles. He nodded in return, but felt the usual wave of disappointment as he looked at her. Will was by no means a shallow person, but Anne was not exactly the most drop-dead gorgeous woman in the world. She was very petite, with a waist so small she had to wear a belt even to make a size zero fit. Her hair, which his aunt had dyed every month, was thin and a sort of beachy, sandy blonde color. Her skin was pale to the point of transparency, and her eyes were a pallid blue. Hovering by her aunt, the older lady almost completely blocked her from view.

"William, Richard, I've decided I'm going to New York," Aunt Catherine pronounced. Will and Rich both gave a half-interested nod of the head. For Will, it meant he could spend at least a few days at Pemberley before leaving for London. His aunt bristled slightly at their lukewarm response.

"Of course, you can always join me," she said pointedly, looking between them both. Rich averted his eyes, while Will shrugged.

"Perhaps," he said. His aunt made a huffy noise.

"Fine, I tried asking, but now I'll have to demand. If I have to entertain Collins and his hicktown guest, then I shouldn't have to do it alone," she said. Will straightened and looked at Rich; surely Will could get out of this, and send Rich along. Rich shrugged, but nodded.

"Alright, Aunt, I'll join you," Rich said. Aunt Catherine nodded in satisfaction. Will nodded too, relieved.

"Who's the guest, Aunt Catherine?" Rich asked.

"Some friend of Charlotte's from Long Island," Aunt Catherine said, waving a hand, clearly not caring. "Bennet something or other."

Will pulled his neck, he looked up so fast. Bennet? Eliza?

"I'll come, too, Aunt Catherine," he said quickly, before he knew what he was saying.

All three of them looked at him in surprise.

"But, Will…" Rich started to say, but Aunt Catherine cut him off.

"Excellent! I leave in two days," she said briskly, beckoning Anne to follow her out the room. When the door had shut behind them, Rich turned slowly to Will.

"What was that about? I thought you'd want to go to Pemberly?" he said.

Will didn't answer. His heart had momentarily stopped. _That's_ what was nagging at him. The mention of her name made it all very clear to Will. He had to see her, he had to somehow get her out of his head. He suddenly became very aware that he was close to snapping his pool stick in half.

"I don't know," he finally said to Rich. "I feel like going to New York."

"Will Georgia come?" Richard asked.

_Georgia. No, Georgia_ _could most definitely _not _come_, Will thought.

"No… she wants to go to Pemberly… I'll meet her there later," he said.

Rich shrugged again, clearly confused.

"Wasn't Bingley's girl from Long Island?" he asked suspiciously.

Will sighed, trying yet again to get a good aim. He had told Richard all about Jane and Charles, prudently leaving out Jane's name. He had wanted Richard to observe Charles and see if he thought Charles' current state could possibly be explained by what Will had done. Rich had thought it was possible, but not very likely, easing Will's mind.

"Yes."

* * *

After a few minutes of resistance, Eliza relented and allowed Charlotte to steer her towards the library. When they entered, Tom was writing furiously at the desk, and barely looked up when Charlotte said a cheerful hello. 

"Sorry, ladies," he said a minute later when he finished writing. He looked up now, and his smile was suspiciously strained as he reached to shake Eliza's hand.

"Elizabeth, how nice to see you again," he said, his hand lingering on hers. She pulled away and let her arm settle by her side.

"You, too, Tom," she said.

He raised his eyebrows, as if he suspected she was being sarcastic. She kept her face smooth and sincere; already it felt horribly awkward.

"I trust my dear Charlotte has shown you around the house?" he went on.

"Yes, it's lovely," Eliza said slowly.

Tom nodded, picking at imaginary lint on his sleeve. "Yes… I really can't imagine anyone not wanting to live here."

_Oh, God._

"Anyone else want some coffee?" Charlotte broke in quickly, sensing the tension. "I could really use a second cup."

"Yes, I'll go with you," Eliza said quickly, praying Tom wouldn't come.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my love, I really should be getting back to work," Tom said. He picked up the papers on his desk and then leaned in to Charlotte and gave her a long, lingering kiss. Eliza averted her eyes and tried to keep down her breakfast.

Once Tom was gone, Charlotte and Eliza walked in a somewhat uncomfortable silence to the kitchen. Eliza settled on a stool at the island while Charlotte busied herself with making the coffee. Eliza was just thinking that this was going to be an unbearably long few weeks when Charlotte sat down across from her.

"So… that was embarrassing," Charlotte said with a shaky smile.

Eliza chuckled. "Only a little."

"I really thought he was completely over you," Charlotte said, shaking her head.

Eliza gave a sputtery laugh, not sure how to answer.

"I just put a little dent in his ego, that's all," Eliza said, but Charlotte violently shook her head.

"You did a little more than that, I'm afraid," she said.

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Charlotte, if you're going to tell me that he was in love with me, then please save your breath," she said with a smile.

"He was!" Charlotte said.

"He barely knew me!" Eliza refuted.

"You can love someone without really knowing them" Charlotte said.

"No, you can't," Eliza said. She and Charlotte had often had this fight; Charlotte was a bit more romantic, believing in love at first sight. Eliza, on the other hand, refused to believe that you could love someone without at least having one good conversation with them. That was why Eliza was still having such a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea that Charlotte was doing this with Tom; it was the last thing Eliza had expected from her friend.

"So, you love Tom?" Eliza asked. Charlotte sighed.

"Please, Eliza," she said.

"I just want to make sure I have everything straight here," Eliza said, throwing up her hands.

Charlotte paused for several seconds before saying, "I don't mind him, I really don't. But in all honesty, Lizzie… I saw a chance to go to school and I took it. That's all."

Eliza smiled warmly at Charlotte. "Well, Charlotte, I have to say I'm proud of you."

Charlotte chuckled dryly. "For what?"

"For being so pragmatic."

Charlotte laughed this time. "Well, thanks."

"As long as you don't end up marrying the guy," Eliza continued pointedly.

"I highly doubt that," Charlotte said.

Eliza smiled and took the coffee that Charlotte handed her. As they settled into talking about more tasteful things, like movies and clothes, Eliza sighed with relief.Perhaps this visit wouldn't be quite so dreadful after all.

* * *

"But Will, you promised we'd go back to Pemberly _together_." 

Will frowned as his little sister's face fell in disappointment. For several seconds, he reconsidered his decision to go to New York; anything that made his sister look like that surely wasn't worth it. But his desire to see Eliza won out… he had to see her, he just had to.

"I'll be there in a week," he said, patting his sister's shoulder. "And besides, I'm moving to London with you in January. You'll be sick of me by then."

Georgia rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "But just remember, my birthday is in March and I'll be expecting lots of presents."

Will laughed and ruffled her hair. She bounced out of the room, and he returned to packing. What exactly he was planning on doing upon seeing Eliza, he still had not quite figured out. What he had figured out was this: He loved her, and it was driving him crazy not knowing if she reciprocated. Whether he had the strength to _tell _her this was a whole other question.

Two days later, Rich, Will, their aunt and Anne were boarding Aunt Catherine's private jet. Will was extremely grateful for Rich's company, as he chattered on about this and that, keeping Will's mind occupied.

"So, Bingley's keeping the flat in New York after you move out?" Rich asked.

Will nodded. "Until he graduates, that is. Then we'll sell it."

"Such a pity," Rich lamented. "It's such a sweet place."

Will nodded again. He was going to particularly miss the library… but there would be room for all those books in his London flat. Besides, now any thought of that library led to thoughts of Eliza, and the image of her just sitting there on the window seat, reading.

"Well, I won't be in New York enough to use it, really," Will said. "Mr. Vyse does a fine job of running the States firm."

Rich rolled his eyes, similarly to Georgia. "Mr. Vyse is a pompous ass."

Will laughed. "Yeah, but a damn good lawyer."

Rich shrugged. "I guess."

They talked about work for the remainder of the flight. Touching down at JFK, Aunt Catherine bustled them out of the airport and into the limo. Suddenly, as The Pierre came into view, Will regretted his decision to come very much. But he was here now, and all he could hope for was that he had some time to prepare himself before coming face to face with Eliza after nearly five months.

* * *

A/N: Ack! I know, this chapter is a little short, but it's necessary. The next chapter will be much longer, you'll all be happy to know, but no, it will not contain the proposal just yet. 

Just to note, the penthouse at the Pierre is currently up for sale and is going for $70 million. As I was perusing the real estate listings at the New York Times' website, I noticed that a "regular" apartment within the Pierre was also listed, so I thought it would be an excellent setting in place of Rosings. If you care to drool for a moment or two, you can see the penthouse and the other apartment at brownharrisstevens .com with the property ID#364979 and siroffices .com with the property ID #0014784 (without the spaces - for some irritating reason it won't let me just copy and paste the weblinks.) The second apartment is going for $35 million…. Not too shabby for our Charlotte!

Ok, so PLEASE review if you like how quickly I'm updating! Ten reviews per chapter is pretty good, but I just noticed another story that has less chapters but more reviews and that made me very jealous (hey, I am a Ringwraith, you can't fault me). So review – they make my life happier and I love hearing what parts you guys like or maybe (gasp!) didn't like as much.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	16. We Meet Again, For the First Time

Chapter 16 – _We Meet Again – For the First Time_

Saturday began relatively stress-free. Will woke up at 7 AM, as usual, in one of his aunt's five master bedrooms; the knot that had formed in his stomach last night was still there, but had taken a backseat to his voracious hunger for the moment. Leaving the room, he nearly tripped over one of his aunt's precious bichon frises, a white, fluffy thing that barely moved after Will stepped on its tail. Muttering curses to himself, Will walked through the impressive, grand hall and up the even more impressive, grander staircase. The penthouse, he had to admit, was truly spectacular, but it felt a little bit like living in a museum. Although his own home allowed visitors to wander its halls, he and his sister had added enough of their own touches to make it feel like home. His aunt had exquisite taste, but her many stately paintings and dignified busts made one feel like they couldn't speak above a whisper.

His aunt's chef informed Will that Lady Catherine had already begun her day at the spa. Unsurprised, Will ordered scrambled eggs and sausage and then sat down at the breakfast table and opened the paper. Slowly the sun began to trickle in from the enormous windows that lined the walls. Determinedly keeping his mind on the current state of global affairs, Will barely noticed when Rich plopped down next to him and yawned loudly.

"Anything new?" Rich asked.

Will sighed and set down his coffee. "The world is going to hell in a handbasket, as usual."

"I'd be worried if it wasn't," Rich replied. "We'd be out of a job."

Will chuckled and set aside the business section. He was very glad to have Richard's company; his cousin had a way of keeping his mind occupied.

After breakfast, Rich and Will parted ways to shower and dress before going to play tennis.

"We have to be back by four," Rich said as he walked across the hall to his room.

"Why?" Will asked.

"Dinner… with Collins and his guest," Rich said. "Remember?"

"Already? Tonight?" Will said, panic slowly rising.

"Yes, tonight," Rich said, clearly confused by Will's behavior. He started walking away again before doubling back.

"Hey, Will," he called.

"Yes?"

"Did you bring something to wear to Aunt Catherine's New Year's party?" Rich queried.

Will's shoulders fell. He had forgotten all about Aunt Catherine's yearly affair. Apparently it was going to be in New York this year.

"No… I completely forgot," he replied.

Rich sighed. "Good, me too. We'll go shopping then," he said, walking into his room.

"Great," Will said sarcastically, walking into his own room. He detested shopping almost as much as he detested his aunt's New Year's party.

Fifteen minutes later, and the cousins were taking the elevator down to the third floor. The hotel, which had almost every single conceivable amenity, had indoor tennis courts, as well as a spa, a full-blown gym, and a beauty salon.

The elevator door opened on a warm, carpeted lobby. Rich bounced out of the elevator and started walking toward the tennis courts, but Will had frozen. A little further away, at the entrance to the spa, stood Charlotte Lucas and Eliza. They were both wearing slippers and bathrobes, and were laughing about something in Charlotte's hand. Eliza's skin was paler than it had been in the summer, and her hair was grown out a bit longer, but other than that her appearance had the exact same effect on Will as it had in the summer. It was exactly as he had feared.

"Will, come on," Rich said, breaking Will free from his thoughts.

"Oh… you know, I forgot something upstairs. I'll be right back down," he said quickly over Rich's protests, pressing the close button several times until the doors finally shut. As the elevator made its way back upstairs, Will buried his face in his hands.

This was going to be one hell of a week.

* * *

"Trust me, Lizzie, you don't want to meet her for the first time at dinner. This will be so much easier."

As Charlotte and Eliza ate breakfast Saturday morning (Tom had been conspicuously absent the past few days) Charlotte's maid, Greta, had come in to inform them that they were invited to spend the day at the spa with Lady Catherine. Eliza wasn't too keen on the idea.

"I don't know, Charlotte. This woman sounds like she's really going to aggravate me… I can't politely get up and walk away when I'm wrapped in seaweed," Eliza argued.

"It's a lot better than dinner. She'll never let you leave during dinner," Charlotte said pointedly, standing up and taking the newspaper to the garbage.

"You're going to recycle that, aren't you?" Eliza cried, changing the subject. Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"I don't know about you, but I happen to like being able to breathe oxygen every day," Eliza began to rant. Perhaps if she got her ranting out now, she could stay calm and collected around Lady Catherine.

After debating with Charlotte about the quick decline of natural forest in America, and boasting about how much Charlotte had liked Eliza's organic breakfast, Eliza finally gave in and agreed to go to the spa. Besides, she thought as she pulled on some cotton jersey pants and flip-flops, any excuse to spend a day at the spa was fine with her.

Around ten, the two girls made their way downstairs. Despite being flabbergasted that Charlotte lived in a building that also contained a five-star spa, Eliza eagerly changed into the very soft bathrobe and then waited outside the entrance with Charlotte until Lady Catherine was done with her current service. Apparently, she had already been at the spa since seven, having things done that Eliza would rather not think about, like having certain body parts waxed.

Anxious as they both were, Eliza tried to make the time pass more quickly by making Charlotte laugh with a shtick about their free gift, a loofah in the shape of the hotel. Every once in a while, people walked by, either into the spa or into the massive gym located across the hall. By half past ten, Eliza was getting very antsy, and was half-thinking of just going back up to her room, bundling up, and going for a walk. Just then however, a chic and perfectly coiffed staff member came up to them, and in barely over a whisper, ordered them to follow her.

Inside, the spa was both beautiful and relaxing; the walls were a soothing cerulean blue, and the plush carpet felt soft under Eliza's now-bare feet. After winding through several hallways, they were finally brought into a private room containing several cots. Sitting on the cushy blue sofa in the corner was Lady Catherine herself, and a smaller, much more petite woman whose eyes seemed permanently fixed on the floor.

As Charlotte hurried over to say hello, Eliza assessed Lady Catherine. She certainly wasn't quite as intimidating in her bathrobe as she would have been at dinner, that was for sure. But the woman had a definite authoritative air about her that made Eliza want to try to be polite. Lady Catherine sat perfectly straight, her legs crossed at the ankles. Her hair was a pristine white, short and perfectly curled. Her face was almost entirely devoid of wrinkles, even though she had to be at least sixty years old. Her eyes were hard, like Darcy's, but an icy blue. Other than her strong jaw and chin, though, there was very little familial resemblance.

"Lady Catherine, I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Bennet, a good friend of mine," Charlotte was saying. Eliza jerked herself out of her thoughts and put on her most gracious smile.

"It's an honor to meet you, Lady Catherine," she said, upping the flattery as she extended her hand.

Lady Catherine slightly raised an eyebrow, and took Eliza's hand, but shook it for only a moment.

"This is Anne," she said, gesturing to the timid woman next to her; her voice was strong and noticeably haughty. "She is engaged to a nephew of mine," she went on. Anne looked up quickly at Catherine, almost in surprise, but then nodded slightly to Eliza and immediately returned her eyes to the floor.

Eliza nodded politely, unsure of how to respond. She couldn't quite imagine Darcy being the one who was engaged to this weak little thing, but she felt a certain guilty vengeance in hoping he was.

The ladies settled themselves onto separate cots, and soon four young women came into the room and almost immediately began giving them facials. The room was silent for nearly a half hour, until Eliza could barely move her face from the thick mask laying on it. The four of them were then led into a steam room, where they were supposed to sit until the masks had evaporated off their faces.

Again, the room was quiet for awhile, as no one could speak through the thick masks. But soon, the hot air was steaming them off, and Eliza regained control of her facial functions.

"Elizabeth, do you have any siblings?" Lady Catherine immediately asked, without any pretense of overture.

"Yes, four sisters," Eliza replied.

"Four? No brothers?"

"None, much to my father's chagrin," Eliza said.

Lady Catherine found no amusement in Eliza's statement. Her face remained hard and serious.

"How old are they?" was her next question.

"The youngest is barely fifteen," Eliza said. "My oldest sister is twenty-five."

"And none of you are married?" Lady Catherine asked; she sounded shocked.

"Well, I am only the second oldest, so no, not yet." Already Eliza's nerves were grated.

Lady Catherine paused a moment.

"And where were you all schooled?" was her next question. Eliza felt as if she was on a game show.

"Birch Wathen Lenox."

Lady Catherine nodded, perhaps in approval, perhaps not.

"And you had a nanny all those years, no?"

"No, actually, we never had a nanny."

Lady Catherine audibly gasped. "Five girls, and your mother never hired a nanny!" she cried. "I've never heard of such a thing. She did everything herself?"

"Drove us to basketball practice, dance lessons, debate club… everything," Eliza replied, a bit of a bite coming into her voice. Charlotte glanced warningly at her sideways. Eliza rolled her eyes but nodded. Lady Catherine paused again.

"And you are almost finished with college, is that correct?"

"Yes, I'll graduate from New York University in June."

"And then?"

"And then… most likely graduate school."

"You mean you're not sure?" Lady Catherine intoned, leaning forward to look at Eliza. Eliza felt an odd mixture of defiance and intimidation.

"Not quite yet."

Lady Catherine sat back again, apparently brewing her next batch of questions.

"And your eldest sister… what does she do?" she asked.

"She is a social worker, Lady Catherine," Eliza answered, watching in both satisfaction and irritation as Lady Catherine's brow furrowed a bit.

"And your father?"

"A lawyer here in the city," Eliza replied.

This time Lady Catherine nodded in approval.

"So, Elizabeth, do you play any instruments?"

"I've played the piano on and off since I was six," she replied, chuckling a little at the thought of her rather inept playing skills.

"I have the best piano in the city, Elizabeth. You'll play for us, tonight at dinner."

Eliza's stomach fell. "Ah, Lady Catherine, I don't know…"

"My friends tell me I have the most exquisite ear for music," Lady Catherine went on. "I would have been quite skilled at it, I believe, had I ever learned. I tried to get Anne to play, but her health isn't quite up to it. Music is something that you should carry with you all your life, Elizabeth, remember that."

"Quite so, Lady Catherine."

"And who is your favorite composer, Elizabeth?"

Eliza smiled wide and said, "That would have to be Bob Dylan, Lady Catherine."

All three of them looked at Eliza in surprise. Eliza had the feeling she was the first and only person to have ever dared not give Lady Catherine the answer she was expecting. She stopped smiling and leaned back in her seat.

Lady Catherine made a huffing sound and seemed to have decided to ignore Eliza's last remark.

"So all of your sisters are almost finished with school and yet the eldest isn't even married yet," she said, shaking her head.

"Well I don't know, Lady Catherine," Eliza began, ignoring Charlotte's silent pleas for her to be quiet, "if a girl is very young when her older sister gets married, they would hardly ever get to know her. It would hardly promote sisterly bonding to get married so early."

Again Lady Catherine turned to Eliza, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed Eliza thoroughly.

"You express your opinion very clearly for someone so young," she pronounced.

Eliza smiled and shrugged.

"I have a lot of them," she said.

Lady Catherine seemed almost unsure of what to say next, but just then their four spa guides had come in to tell them it was time for their manicures and pedicures. Luckily, when led into the room full of nail polish and foot tubs, Eliza was situated away from Lady Catherine. Although Charlotte looked exasperated with her, Eliza just shrugged happily to herself and settled in her chair. Dinner should prove quite interesting, she thought.

* * *

After three tries, Darcy was finally able to take the elevator down to the third floor and have it open on an empty lobby. Richard was incredulous when Will finally joined him, but Will deflected his questions and focused on beating his cousin match after match. Around three, with Richard completely exhausted, they left the courts and went back upstairs. Tennis had occupied Will's mind quite well, but now dinner was upon him. As he showered, he wondered how he should behave toward Eliza. Should he hint at his feelings? _No, you idiot, you haven't even decided if you're going to tell her_. Besides, he thought with a sinking stomach, he had a feeling it was already noticeable.

As he stepped out of the shower, he took a moment to examine himself in the mirror before he shaved his considerable stubble. He was certainly not bad-looking; he had been told the contrary all his life. But there was something in his demeanor that made him feel that he and Eliza didn't quite match. Sighing, he took out his razor and began to shave; it must just be the complete inferiority of Eliza that was throwing him off. Perhaps if he just kept telling himself that, he could come to his senses and leave New York without ever telling Eliza anything.

Indeed, he was almost looking forward to dinner now, he thought as he got dressed in grey slacks and a button-down shirt. Once he saw how Aunt Catherine acted toward Eliza, surely it would reverse his affection. Aunt Catherine didn't exactly hold back when it came to those beneath her, so she was sure to make Will see Eliza for what she was: a completely unsuitable match. Besides, Anne would be there, and Anne tended to get asthma attacks any time Will showed the slightest interest in another woman.

At exactly four o'clock, Will and Richard joined their aunt and Anne in the parlor, an imposing room with dark, wooded walls and several portraits of his aunt's ancestors. Lady Catherine's precious grand piano sat silently in the corner as the four of them discussed their days. Aunt Catherine had clearly had a few nips and tucks done, while Anne had managed to put on some makeup and looked slightly livelier than usual. At five past, they heard the doorbell ring. Aunt Catherine clucked her tongue.

"Late," she said.

Moments later, the butler was at the door, followed by Collins, Charlotte Lucas, and, in the back, Eliza. Tom was delighted to see Will and Richard; the latter had never had the pleasure of meeting Collins before, and Will was amused to see his cousin rather taken aback by Collins' enthusiasm. Will spoke a few words with Charlotte, saying he admired what she had done with her place, which Will had been forced to tour with his aunt much earlier. Finally, he turned to Eliza, who was looking at him with shock. She was wearing a white sweater with a very distracting neckline, and it was all Will could do just to nod to her.

"Eliza," he said.

"Darcy… I had no idea you were here," she said, and then her eyes batted suspiciously to Anne. Will cringed, imagining what his aunt might have told her. That could present a problem.

"Yes, my cousin and I decided to join my aunt," he said, gesturing to Richard, who was making pleasant conversation, as usual, with Charlotte.

"Oh… that's nice," she said. There was a now-familiar awkward pause.

"How's your family?" he inquired.

"Fine… Jane has moved into the city. Actually, she's not too far from where you are, maybe you've seen her?" she asked.

Will bit his tongue. He hated to lie, but shook his head. "No, I haven't."

She looked a little disappointed, but by this time Lady Catherine was speaking loudly so as to get everyone's attention. Will watched as Eliza was introduced to Richard, who immediately sat down next to her and began speaking with her easily. Will rolled his eyes, but turned away from them slightly. He wasn't quite sure he could watch.

* * *

"Now, don't worry yourself, Elizabeth. Just put on whatever you brought. Lady Catherine won't expect much."

Eliza and Charlotte had returned from the spa around three, and Tom was quite beside himself. He was positive they wouldn't make it to dinner on time, and so had set himself to driving them crazy as they attempted to do just that.

"Tom, I will, but I have to insist you leave the room first," Eliza said from her bathroom. Tom had barged into the room while she was in the shower, getting the last of the oil from her massage off, and she had nearly lost it when she opened the door in her towel to find him there.

"Alright, alright," Tom cried, and he scurried from the room. Eliza came out of the bathroom and immediately locked her bedroom door. She then turned to her suitcase, which she had upended. The best she could come up with was her white, cashmere, v-neck sweater and brown wool slacks. She added her diamond solitaire necklace and nice leather boots, but she still felt somewhat underdressed.

Her gut had been right – she didn't like Lady Catherine all that much. But the old lady wasn't _too_ infuriating… indeed, after Tom, she was a snap. Eliza was too excited to see the penthouse to be nervous or anxious about dinner, although Lady Catherine's demand to have her play piano still hung at the back of her mind.

With her hair curled and her makeup set, Eliza left the room at precisely ten to 4. By the sounds of it, Charlotte was not as close to being ready; Eliza could hear Tom yelling at her to hurry up. A minute later, their room door slammed, and Tom came bounding into the kitchen. He looked very relieved to see Eliza was ready, and gave her a shaky smile.

"Lady Catherine despises tardiness," he told her.

"It's very generous of her to have us up for dinner, though," Eliza commented.

"Oh yes, yes… whenever she is here, she invites us to dinner almost every other day. And she did so much in getting this place ready for us… have I shown you the paintings in the gallery?"

Apparently Eliza mentioning Lady Catherine's generosity was just the thing to get Tom's mind off of dinner. He led Eliza into the octagonal gallery, and began to wax on about the artists and Lady Catherine's superb taste in art. Eliza snuck a look at her watch: 4:01. Just then, Charlotte came into the gallery, looking hassled but very chic in a long gown and jacket. Eliza groaned.

"I look horrible!" she said.

"No you don't, come on, we'll be late," Charlotte said all in one breath, grabbing Eliza's wrist and hurrying them all out of the door. Tom was again beside himself, and muttered under his breath the whole elevator ride.

At 4:05, they rang the doorbell, which was opened by a dignified butler.

"Right this way," he said, and led them inside. Eliza's jaw dropped to the floor as they made their way inside; the penthouse was truly magnificent. Mahogany floors, fireplaces all over, marble ceilings… she trailed behind the others, trying to get in everything. Too soon, they were stopping at a large sitting room, and other things captured Eliza's attention. Like the fact that William Darcy was sitting right next to his aunt… she couldn't decide whether to be shocked or annoyed.

As the three of them made their way into the room, Charlotte and Tom exchanged greetings with everyone by turn. Darcy was the closest to her, so she gave him a small smile in recognition.

"Eliza," he said. He looked exactly the same as the last time she seen him, all those months ago. Reserved, serious, and arrogant.

"Darcy… I had no idea you were here," she said, walking up to him. She looked at Anne… perhaps he _was_ the nephew?

"Yes, my cousin and I decided to join my aunt," he said, gesturing to the tall young man beside him. She nodded… perhaps not.

"Oh… that's nice," she said lamely. As they always did, they settled into an awkward pause.

"How's your family?" he asked politely. She was somewhat shocked by it.

"Fine… Jane has moved into the city. Actually, she's not too far from where you are, maybe you've seen her?" she asked, wondering if he would tell her even if he had. He was shaking his head.

"No, I haven't."

She shrugged a little, but soon Lady Catherine's booming voice took her attention.

"Elizabeth," the lady said as Eliza made her way toward her. "This is one of my other nephews, Richard Fitzwilliam," she said, gesturing, as Darcy did, to the young man sitting next to her. To Eliza's surprise, Richard smiled easily and shook her hand warmly. He wasn't so handsome, per se, but he was the most congenial member of their family she had met yet. Eliza immediately took a liking to him and sat down.

As Tom immediately launched into apologize profusely to Lady Catherine for their tardiness, Eliza began talking with Richard. They spoke of New York, London – where he lived – books, and Eliza's major. They were just getting to the subject of music, when Eliza noticed it was oddly quiet. Lady Catherine had turned her attention to the pair of them, her eyes suddenly beady.

"What are you saying, Richard? What are you speaking about with Elizabeth so long? I must know," she said. Richard blushed a little and turned to his aunt.

"We were just talking of music, Aunt Catherine," he said.

"Ah," Lady Catherine said, casting a knowing eye on Eliza. "We were speaking of music earlier, weren't we Elizabeth?"

Eliza smiled a little and said, "Indeed, we were."

Apparently Lady Catherine had chosen to forget Eliza's cheekiness from before, and went on, "Elizabeth told me she plays the piano. I insisted she play for us tonight… William, how does Georgia play? She was exquisite the last time I heard her."

Darcy nodded, and again Eliza noticed the warmth with which he spoke of his sister. "She's excellent. Practices all the time."

"Yes, well, that's the only way you get good at it, isn't it William?" Lady Catherine said. "Do you play, Charlotte?"

"I haven't for years, Lady Catherine," Charlotte said quietly.

"You should start again, Charlotte. There's nothing like playing an instrument to keep the mind sharp. I have another piano in the staff rooms… you could practice there, when you have some free time. You'll be in no one's way."

Charlotte blushed deeply, and even Darcy looked a little disconcerted by his aunt's behavior. Lady Catherine turned her attention again to Eliza.

"Go on, Elizabeth, play for us before dinner is served," she said.

"Oh, Lady Catherine, honestly, I'm really not that good a player," Eliza said desperately.

"Nonsense. Go play."

Despite hating being told what to do, Eliza noted Charlotte's pleading eyes. She nodded, and went to the piano. To her relief, Richard followed.

"Don't worry, she'll start talking the moment you begin," he said quietly. She chuckled and leafed through the music to find a song she could actually play. As Richard predicted, on her first note, Lady Catherine turned to Darcy and began talking loudly. Eliza played softly and slowly.

"You're not that bad," Richard commented, sitting down next to her to turn the page.

She shrugged. "I was never too committed to it," she admitted. At the end of the second page, she looked up to find Darcy standing by the piano, too. Although slightly startled, she bristled.

Trying not to take her eyes away from the page, she said, "Are you trying to intimidate me, Darcy, by coming over closer to hear me play? Because I won't be, you know, even if your sister does play well. I always rise to a challenge, Darcy, you should know that." He continued to look coolly reserved, although the faintest hint of a smile had appeared.

"And you should know that I am not trying to alarm you, Eliza. But I've known you long enough to know that sometimes you express opinions that are not fully your own."

Eliza laughed – is that what he thought of her? "Such as?"

"You do well at the piano, and are not nearly as bad as you made yourself out to be. I thought as much."

"Compared to others…"

"Compared to others, you are quite good," Darcy said.

"Your cousin," she said, addressing Richard, "will tell you to not believe a thing I say. You know, Darcy, that's not very nice. I had hoped to give off a better impression here among strangers, but not now with you exposing my real character. That's really very impolite of you, Darcy, and I may just have to tell your cousin here some very shocking things I know about you."

Darcy smiled slightly. "I'm not afraid of you, Eliza."

She raised her eyebrow.

"So, you two have met before?" Richard asked incredulously. "Please, Eliza, I'd love to hear what Will is like among complete strangers," he said, smiling at his cousin.

"Well, prepare yourself, because it isn't pretty," Eliza said, barely concentrating on the piano by now. "The first time I ever met him was at a party where everyone danced the entire time. Do you know your cousin only danced for maybe five minutes, even though men were in quite a short supply? Don't deny it, Darcy."

Darcy was looking at her with an odd expression on his face, as if he were contemplating what she was saying.

"I didn't know anyone but my friends at the time," he said.

"Right, because no one could be introduced during a party," she said sarcastically.

Just then, Richard was claimed by Lady Catherine, who was summoning him over to join her. He smiled in amusement at Eliza, and patted Will on the back as he walked away. Eliza returned her attention to the piano, but Darcy had moved closer.

"I'm not very good at talking with strangers… chitchat, you know," he said quietly. She looked up at him in puzzlement. He was a lawyer – wasn't talking his job?

"But why should that be?" she asked. "You're smart, you've traveled the world… surely you can talk about anything."

"I just can't make myself seem interested in other people, like I always see others can," he said. Despite the overwhelming arrogance of this statement, Eliza couldn't help but realize that she had often felt the same way.

"I see other people play the piano much better than I do… they can play faster, more precisely, and with more expression. But that's my own fault… I never practiced enough. Catch my drift?"

He was looking at her as if she were a small revelation.

"You're absolutely right."

Eliza could see Lady Catherine gesturing to both of them to rejoin her.

"Besides, your problem isn't the _way_ you speak," she said, standing and closing the music book.

"Then what is it?" Darcy asked.

"You don't smile enough," she said, smiling herself.

"I've never been good at that, either," he said.

"Well, then perhaps you ought to practice."

* * *

A/N: Woo! Long chapter! (And also note that I threw in a visual of Darcy in various states of undress – yes, you can thank me now).

So not too bad with the update time – exactly two weeks. I was tempted to keep going with this chapter, but then it would be too long and the next one would be too short, so I ended it during dinner. Next chapter may or may not have the proposal, I haven't decided. It will have lots of Darcy-Eliza-ness, though, so huzzah!

Hopefully I can get around to starting the next chapter this week… my parents are out of town all week, so I'll be running around doing the dishes, cleaning, and taking the dog out and whatnot, but I'm hoping to squeeze in some writing.

So PLEASE review! Whatever I said last time must have worked, because I got 19 reviews! Woo! Can we make 20 this time? That would send me into a tizzy of happiness that would surely set my fingers ablaze with writing the next chapter. I'd really love to get to 200 reviews soon!

Also… not sure how many of you this applies to, but I'm really really hoping to edit/rewrite my fairy tale Goodbye, Hello this summer, so if my updating for this story slows down a wee bit, that's why. If you read that story, keep on the lookout! I'll probably add a few new chapters and basically just spruce it up.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	17. A Walk to Remember

Chapter 17 - _A Walk to Remember_

Sunday afternoon turned out to be quite mild and sunny; a very odd 50° for January. Eliza seized the moment to go to the park for a walk, as the air inside was starting to feel rather stuffy. Charlotte had explained that morning that Sunday was usually the day she and Tom did something together, as it was really the only free time either of them had. Eliza certainly did not want to get in the way, and so got dressed in jeans, a turtleneck, and her coat and headed out the door.

Everyone was out enjoying the beautiful day. The park was filled with runners, people walking their dogs, and those who, like Eliza, were just taking a stroll. Taking walks had always been one of Eliza's favorite activities; it gave her some time to herself to just think. Walks certainly had been helpful growing up with four sisters.

As she walked through this rare bit of a nature, she mulled over the events of last night. Lady Catherine had never even really commented on Eliza's piano playing, but instead had insisted on Eliza divulging more about her family: where they vacationed, what law firm her father worked for, what other relatives they had. Richard, for his part, seemed interested, and commented every so often. Darcy just sat back on the sofa, watching his aunt with a completely unreadable expression. Dinner, however, had been entirely consumed by Collins' constant drivel about the penthouse and Lady Catherine; particular attention had then been spent on Darcy, apparently for whom Tom was soon going to be working. Darcy had looked less than thrilled with this, and for once, Eliza couldn't blame him.

"Eliza! Eliza!"

Eliza turned at the sound of someone calling her name. She smiled as she saw Richard waving to her, a few yards away. She stopped walking and waited for him to catch up; to her slight disappointment, Darcy was also walking behind his cousin, but did not seem in as much a hurry to get to her.

"What a coincidence," Richard said, coming up beside Eliza.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, nodding her head to Darcy who was still a several feet away.

"Just going to play a bit of squash," Richard said. Eliza bit back a smile. "It's such a beautiful day it would be a shame to waste it."

By this point, Darcy had joined them. Eliza had to bite back a laugh this time; the two cousins were wearing almost identical white shirts and shorts, complete with sneakers and blue jackets.

"Well, I like the team uniform," Eliza said, gesturing to the matching outfits.

Richard and Darcy looked at each other, and then Richard shook his head and clucked his tongue.

"I knew we should have called each other, Will. Eliza's right, we can't wear the same thing! We'll be mocked for eternity," he said, chuckling. Eliza laughed; Darcy allowed himself a smile.

"You wouldn't care to join us, would you?" asked Richard.

Eliza laughed again. "I don't know, I don't have the uniform."

Richard chuckled and threw an arm around her shoulders and started walking.

"That's alright. I played in a tuxedo once."

"But I don't know the first thing about squash!" Eliza protested. She really did just want to continue her walk.

"Well it's quite simple really. You see, Eliza, squash is a vegetable, right? It's this sort of yellow color… one eats it in the fall, usually."

Eliza laughed but still shook her head. "But…"

"Richard, she doesn't want to play," Darcy suddenly said behind them. Richard and Eliza turned around. Darcy had his eyes fixed on his cousin. "You _did_ interrupt her walk."

Once again, Eliza couldn't but marvel at what a strange creature Darcy was. He was so dull and haughty, and yet every once in awhile he would say something that was so… _true_. Like last night, at the piano. It was a bit startling, really.

Richard seemed almost to blush, and then nodded to Darcy.

"As usual, my cousin is right. I'm sorry for disturbing your walk, Eliza," he said with a mock bow. She giggled and nodded.

"Don't worry about it," she said, and they continued on; not once did Darcy look at her.

She shrugged and continued her walk. Next time, she thought to herself, she hoped Richard would be alone.

* * *

"What is with you Darcy? You've been so weird since we've gotten here… well, more so than usual, anyway."

Rich and Will were walking away from Eliza, who had taken a turn and was now out of sight. The sight of Eliza and Rich getting so chummy had been a bit much for him, and he knew that an entire afternoon of it would have been impossible for him to stand.

Quite unfortunately for Will, last night had not gone as planned. Instead of Aunt Catherine making him see what a dreadful mistake Eliza would be, she inadvertently made him realize what a dreadful mistake _Anne_ would be. By constantly comparing Anne to Eliza – her family, her talents, her education – Anne seemed even more boring than usual. A future with Anne, Will thoughts, would be very dull indeed.

"Nothing," Will replied to Rich, but Richard suddenly slapped Will's arm.

"I get it! You're doing it this week, aren't you?" Rich said.

"Doing what?"

"Actually asking Anne to marry you! Finally, it'll make Aunt Catherine so happy."

Will's insides froze. It was true, he had been putting off actually putting a ring on Anne's finger for as long as possible. His aunt had been uncharacteristically patient, but Will suddenly realized that perhaps she was expecting Will to do it this week, too. _Dear God, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into?_

"Rich, can I ask you something?" Will asked.

"Sure, anything."

"And be honest."

"Alright," Rich said, raising an eyebrow.

Will paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"What do you think of Anne?" he finally asked.

Rich was silent for several moments, clearly unsure of how to answer.

"Well, she's… nice," he said lamely.

"I said be honest, Rich. You're not going to hurt anyone's feelings here."

Rich looked sideways at his cousin and then sighed. "She adores you and would be completely obedient to you… which might get a bit annoying."

Will nodded his head in agreement.

"She's quiet, and completely incapable of forming her own opinion. And I'm sorry, mate, but I really don't know how you're ever going to bang her."

Will groaned; sex was, unfortunately, a bit of an issue.

"Aunt Cate is living in the past, mate. Even the princes don't have arranged marriages anymore." Rich paused. "Why… is there someone else?"

Will was starting to walk faster. He had hoped the conversation would not come to this.

"No, not necessarily," he lied. "I'm just…"

"Look, Will… you've got your own money. Your own house, your own job… Aunt Catherine holds absolutely no power of you. She's just family. Why are you letting her do this?"

"Do what?"

"Dictate your life? There's no choice more important than marriage, Will. Think of my parents – not once did they ever like each other in thirty years. Their life was completely dull. And I hate to say it, but you asked me to be honest – if you marry Anne, your life _will _be boring. That's the truth."

Rich ended his little outburst, breathing a little raggedly and looking at Will as if almost frightened of him. Will had slowed down again and was staring at the ground. Rich was right. So what if Aunt Catherine disowned him, hated him for all eternity? She had no control over his money, his property… and besides, his mother hadn't even liked her all that much.

He looked over at his cousin, grateful for his honesty.

"Thank you, Rich," Will said. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?" Richard asked, surprised.

"Of course."

They remained in silence all the way to the squash court, and played a few matches quietly. Will was thinking hard as he beat Rich over and over again. _I should just talk to Eliza_, he reasoned with himself. _Obviously there's something between us, she must agree. We'll figure out what to do from there._

Despite his self-reassurances, however, the thought of telling Eliza – or, indeed, anyone – that he loved her was still terrifying. He remained lost in thought as he and Rich walked back to the Pierre, occasionally nodding as Rich commented on passersby.

Early in the evening, after Aunt Catherine announced she was having dinner with friends and Rich and Will weren't invited, Will showered and dressed in jeans and a sweater. Taking several deep breaths, he got into the elevator. His real purpose for going downstairs was to discuss some business matters with Collins, but if he happened upon Eliza, so be it.

Their door was opened by Greta, Collins' maid who spoke with a thick Russian accent and still couldn't understand more than five words of English.

She smiled at Will and said, "Library."

He nodded and proceeded into the apartment. Wandering down a hallway, he strained to remember which room was the library, until he saw an open door. Knocking lightly, he entered.

Upon walking in, though, he saw not Collins, but Eliza, curled up in a leather armchair reading a book. This being completely unexpected, her appearance startled him as she looked up and smiled hesitantly.

"Darcy, hi," she said.

"I'm sorry… I was just… isn't Collins here?" he stuttered, hating himself.

"Oh, no, he and Charlotte went out for dinner," she reported.

There was a weird pause; on the one hand, Will realized an opportune chance to talk to Eliza alone, but the on the other, he was completely flustered and had thought of nothing to say.

"Ah… I thought he was here," he said.

"Well… he isn't," Eliza said awkwardly.

"How's your family?" he asked, desperate for something to say.

She smiled and said, "Just as well as the last time you asked."

His stomach dropped; he felt like a fool. "Right, of course." That was it, he couldn't stand another moment of this. "I have to go," he said, and without waiting for her to say goodbye, he swept from the room.

Sinking his face into his hand as he rode up the elevator, Will seriously considered just leaving for England. It couldn't get any worse than that, could it?

* * *

Apart from an odd appearance by Will Darcy, Eliza's evening went by quietly. Charlotte and Tom had gone to dinner and then a movie, so Eliza contented herself with reading a little and then watching some TV. She chuckled softly to herself as she thought of Darcy's awkward burst into the library a while ago. What a strange fellow, she thought for the millionth time. Obviously he had come to see Tom, and upon finding only Eliza, had scrambled to get out of there as soon as possible. God forbid he spend two minutes talking with her.

Monday morning, Charlotte informed Eliza that they were invited to Lady Catherine's grand New Year's Eve party on Thursday night. Subsequently, they spent the next few days shopping, getting their nails done, and several other girly things that Eliza secretly loved.

Thursday dawned bright, clear, and cold. Despite repeated pleas from Charlotte, Eliza bundled up to take a walk outside. In response to Charlotte's hysterics that she might catch a cold before the party, she promised to return within an hour.

The elevator doors opened to find Richard standing inside, bundled up almost as much as Eliza. He grinned to her as he re-pressed the lobby button.

"Going for a stroll?" he asked.

"Yes, and you?"

"Hoping to walk with you, if you don't mind," he said.

She smiled and nodded. "I'd like the company," she said truthfully.

They chitchatted as the elevator descended and they left the building to cross the street towards Central Park. The conversation turned towards Lady Catherine and Collins, whom Richard believed were secretly having an affair.

"That's disgusting!" Eliza proclaimed, trying to avoid any thoughts of this.

"Makes sense, though, right? The way he's constantly complimenting her, and how she always gives him money and stuff," Rich persisted.

"It's still gross," Eliza said.

"I mean, your friend isn't actually in love with him, is she?" Richard asked.

"God, I hope not," Eliza said, and they laughed. Eliza's thoughts flicked to Anne.

"Rich, let me asked you something," she said.

"Go ahead."

"What's Anne's story?" she inquired.

He sighed, shaking his head a little. "Well, her parents were very good friends of my aunt's. They died a while ago, in a car crash. Apparently they made Aunt Catherine Anne's legal guardian, so she's been living with her ever since."

Eliza nodded, feeling a little sorry for the girl. "Your aunt said Anne was engaged to one of her nephews," she said. Richard looked at her in alarm.

"She did?" he said.

"Yeah, when I first met her," Eliza said.

"Oh, well… they aren't _actually_ engaged, but Aunt Catherine is certainly hoping," Richard said.

"Who, though?" Eliza pressed.

"Will," Richard replied, sounding a bit sad. Eliza nodded – it was Darcy, then. She had figured as much.

"You don't think Will would marry her?" she asked.

"I would hope not," Rich said quietly. "But Will's thinking about it. I don't know why, I mean, he helped his friend get out of a doomed relationship, I don't know why he can't do it for himself."

Eliza stopped cold. "What did you say?"

"About what?"

"About the friend, what did you mean about the friend?" Eliza asked quickly, although part of her didn't want to hear the answer.

"Oh, well, I suppose I can tell you," Richard said, urging her to continue walking. "Will has this friend from Oxford… they lived together during law school, too. Apparently Will just helped him out of a sticky situation… but he told me he's had to do it before, apparently the guy just can't help but constantly get his heart broken."

"So… so Will just intervened? Without the friend asking?" Eliza asked harshly. Richard looked slightly alarmed.

"Well, like I said, he's had to do it before."

"So he just goes in and breaks them up?"

"Yeah… this time it took a little more effort, he said, but he couldn't just stand by and let his friend go out with this girl."

A hot rage like Eliza hadn't felt in a long time was rising throughout her body. He had to be speaking of Bingley and Jane!

"And what exactly were his objections?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Rich looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, I mean, his friend was going to go back to England eventually. And Will mentioned something about how his friend's father wouldn't approve."

"Approve of what?"

Rich faltered. "Her family, I suppose," he finally said. "Apparently they were a real nightmare."

Eliza stopped walking again. Her body felt hot and uncomfortable in all this clothing. She could barely see for her fury. How _dare_ he! The arrogant bastard had actually broken Bingley and Jane up, and only because he didn't approve!

"I'm sorry, Eliza… I know that sort of thing is usually unheard of over here," Rich started to say, seeing Eliza was upset.

"I'm going to go back," Eliza said, and without so much as another word, she turned on her heel and left Richard behind.

Back in the apartment, Eliza tore off her clothing, throwing each piece down onto the ground in a towering temper. The complete _audacity_ of it! She just could not wrap her mind around it. Darcy had deliberately taken Bingley out of Long Island to separate him from Jane. He had broken Jane's – and Bingley's – heart... Smashed it, more like. Ground it into a thousand pieces. The cruel, spineless –

"Lizzie?"

Eliza whirled around to find Charlotte in the doorway, looking worried.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked.

Eliza took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure? You look flushed."

"Just the cold," Eliza said.

Charlotte nodded. "Well, you should probably start getting ready. We have to head up in an hour."

Eliza had completely forgotten the time. She nodded to Charlotte, who smiled a bit shakily and then left.

Getting ready for the party was tortuous. Richard's words just kept filtering through her thoughts. _Apparently they were a real nightmare…_ Eliza realized with a pang that, to outsiders, this must be true. Her own fierce loyalty to her family was probably the only reason she could stand to be around them. But still, that was absolutely no reason to break them up! Even if Bingley did fall in love all the time, this time had been different! Jane had loved Bingley back, they could have been very happy together… why didn't Darcy see that?

An hour later, Eliza was dressed in a midnight blue gown, her hair curled. She supposed she was ready to go, but she wasn't sure how she was going to contain herself around Darcy. She would have to avoid him at all costs.

Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky. As she searched the long dinner table for her name placard, she audibly groaned to see it placed right next to Darcy's. Her body stiffened as she sat down next to him.

"Good evening, Eliza," he said. She restrained herself from openly glaring at him. She hated everything about him, from his dull, droning voice to his platinum cufflinks. She merely nodded in response.

Luckily, Lady Catherine commanded the conversation for most of dinner, at least to those seated closest to her, which included Darcy and Eliza. She noticed Anne looking adoringly up at Darcy whenever he spoke, and she smiled viciously to herself. _Good,_ she thought, _he deserves nothing better._

As the main course ended, however, Lady Catherine began to speak quietly to Tom, and Darcy turned to Eliza.

"How did you like the dinner?" he asked.

"Fine," she said shortly. He seemed a bit startled.

"Don't tell that to my aunt, she's never heard her meals described as anything but delicious," he said. She did not smile, and he seemed thoroughly disconcerted.

"Are you alright, Eliza?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

Dessert came, and Darcy fell silent. The dinner table was oddly quiet as the forty or so people ate their chocolate cake. As the plates were cleared, people started to stand.

"Are you sure you're alright, you seem a bit…" Darcy started to say.

"I'm fine," Eliza repeated, then stood and left the table, without looking back.

* * *

Eliza seemed unusually distant during dinner, and it was quite upsetting to Will. He was used to her smile, her wit, her sparkle. Tonight she seemed reserved, angry even. He had never felt quite so desperate to tell her how he felt. That was it, he thought. He would just have to bite the bullet and do it tonight.

His task, however, was harder than he may have thought. He barely saw Eliza all night, and was instead occupied by his aunt, who was pushing him around the room introducing him to everyone there. Anne hovered by his side, but he made every effort to be clear that they were not together. The four-piece orchestra played quietly in the background as the clock slowly ticked toward midnight. Richard had come up to him once or twice, asking to talk, but Will was too busy meeting and talking with everyone.

Around eleven o'clock, he saw her; Eliza was sneaking out of the room and towards the door. Seizing the chance, he lied and said he was going to the men's room, and slipped out of his aunt's clutches.

It was now or never.

* * *

Unable to contain her anger any longer, Eliza had told Charlotte she had a headache and was going to turn in early. Despite Charlotte's protests, Eliza bid a quick farewell and "Happy New Year" to her and Tom, and then quietly snuck out of the room. Perhaps she should change and do some jumping jacks or go on the treadmill, she thought. Just to relieve some of the tension.

She walked into the apartment feeling drained, although she had barely done anything all night. She sunk into a chair and put her head on the windowpane; she could see several cheerful people around the park, wearing funny hats and pulling crackers. Her heart sank to think of her sister, who had told her earlier that day that she was spending New Year's at home with her aunt and uncle.

Suddenly there came a knock at the door. The sound startled Eliza so much she almost fell out of the chair. Collecting her wits, she went to answer the door. Her heart fell even further at seeing who it was.

"Hello, Eliza."

* * *

A/N: OMG I am so mean! I'm sorry, I meant to have the proposal in this chapter, but now I feel it's best left for the next one. Hopefully I will write the next chapter soon – I'm dying to, that's for sure.

So please review if you want the next chapter to come out quickly! Let's see if we can get to 200, shall we?

Love, luck and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen

P.S. Even I admit that some of the dialogue needs work, but I just implore everyone to remember that all these characters (with the exception of a few) are intelligent, wealthy people who still speak with some degree of class and articulation.


	18. Can We?

Chapter 18 – _Can We?_

_Think of what you're saying  
You can get it wrong and still you think that it's all right  
Think of what I'm saying  
We can work it out and get it straight or say good night  
We can work it out_

"Hello Eliza."

Eliza's mind went oddly blank. What on Earth was _he_ doing here? Collins was clearly upstairs… everyone was upstairs…

"Charlotte said you had a headache. I was just… I just wanted to see if you were alright," he said, fidgeting slightly.

Eliza furrowed her brow and looked at him quizzically. "Yes, I'm fine," she said shortly.

There was an unbearably long pause. Finally accepting the fact that he did not seem to want to leave, Eliza stepped back and invited him inside. He did not look at her as he walked quickly into the dining room. Eliza felt tired, and it only grated her ever-growing resentment toward Darcy when he started pacing the length of the dining table. She stood across from him, again trying to restrain from openly glaring.

Finally, he stopped and turned to her. He took a very deep breath and then said,

"Eliza, I can't hide it any longer. I want… I _must_ tell you that I am… have been… deeply in love with you."

Abandoning her glare, Eliza just stared at him. The room was deathly silent for a few moments as Eliza's mind slowly began to work again.

"I know I shouldn't be telling you this," he went on when she didn't answer. "I've been telling myself it can't be true, it's ridiculous… I mean, you're American, for one thing, and my family will be completely furious. I'll be going against centuries of tradition; I can just hear my father rolling over in his grave. I've been convincing myself for months that it was nothing serious, but when I heard you were coming here, I had to come, I had to see you," he said, speaking very quickly. "And it's been a complete shock, I still can't get you out of my head, I mean, this is not like me, it's not in my nature to like… someone like you, Eliza, but I do, I love you, and I just ask… I just ask that you end all my pain and say that you will be with me forever."

He stopped talking, breathing heavily. Eliza had never been more thoroughly shocked in her entire life. Darcy… Lord William Darcy, the man who had been nothing more than an eyesore and irritant in her life for months… _loved_ her? She stared at the table, her mind working quickly. This was preposterous… first off, his proclamation had been nothing if not insulting. And secondly, she hated him for breaking Jane's heart and ruining George's life. The man was utterly insufferable!

Setting her jaw, she looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry, Darcy, for causing you _so_ much pain. I didn't mean to."

She didn't say another word, for fear she would start shouting. A million emotions seemed to pass over his usually calm face, including anger and disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth several times, before speaking.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold.

"Yes," Eliza replied, watching his green eyes haze over.

He shifted his weight and then said, "Can I ask why you're answering so shortly and rudely?" He sounded angry now.

"And can I ask why _you_ decided to tell me you loved me, against your family, your judgment, your very _nature_?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Because honestly, all you did was insult me."

He flushed, but did not answer.

"But I have other reasons for rejecting you, you know I do!" Eliza continued, unable to contain herself. She could not believe he still had the audacity to stand in the apartment.

"Such as?" he asked, as if forcing his voice into calmness.

"I have every reason to dislike you. Did you really think that anything you said would make me overlook the fact that you broke my sister's heart? She loved Bingley, and you tore them apart! You can't deny it!" she cried, feeling her emotions overcome her. Her anger only intensified when he raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"No, I won't deny it. I did everything I could to get my friend away from your sister. Clearly I should have done the same for myself," he said airily.

Eliza was gripping the chair in front of her so hard her knuckles were white. Wishing to fling every insult she could think of into his face, she said, "But it was long before that I knew how cruel you were. George Wickham told me everything."

"You show a lot of interest in that man," Darcy said viciously.

"Anyone who's heard anything about his life could hardly _not_ take an interest!"

"You know nothing about George Wickham," Darcy said, his face a pale shade of pink.

"This coming from a man who's been lying to himself for months," Eliza shot back. "You threw Wickham to the dogs and yet you stand there looking proud of it! I didn't know it was possible to live without a heart, but here you are!"

Darcy started pacing again. Several moments later he said, "This is what you think of me then? Thank you for explaining everything in such detail. Perhaps you wouldn't have gotten so angry had I flattered you and lied and said I'd had no reservations whatsoever of telling my feelings to you… but lying under any circumstances is disgusting." He paused. "I am not going to apologize for being honest with you, Elizabeth. My feelings were all completely justified. Did you really think I was going to jump for joy at the prospect of tying myself to your family?"

Eliza was practically blinded by her rage, but she attempted to compose herself.

"No, Darcy, I didn't. In fact, your rudeness and apparent inability to be a gentleman only spared me any concern I may have felt by rejecting you. Because I would have rejected you no matter which way you said it."

Darcy started at this but remained silent. He stopped pacing and stared at the floor. This only pressed her to continue ranting.

"From the first moment I met you, you have only proved yourself to be arrogant, conceited, selfish, and hold nothing but disdain for the feelings of others. I disliked you even before I heard Wickham's story or you broke my sister's heart. I barely knew you a minute before I realized you were the last man in the entire world I could ever be with." She stopped abruptly, noticing the paleness of Darcy's face. This had easily been the worst conversation she'd ever had with anyone, and she hoped he could recover whatever dignity he could and leave now.

"Please, Elizabeth," he said, holding up his hands, "you've said enough. You've made your feelings perfectly clear, and I now only regret sharing mine. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time." He never met her eyes, but moved fluidly from the room, leaving Eliza practically shaking in his wake. A moment later, she heard, "Happy new year, Eliza." And then the door closed.

* * *

Will had never felt such a peculiar mix of fury, shame, and disappointment in his entire life. Eliza's words reverberated painfully in his mind as he got into the elevator. _I have every reason to dislike you…your rudeness and apparent inability to be a gentleman…_These words struck particularly hard. Will had always thought himself, if nothing else, a gentleman. _Arrogant, conceited, selfish…_

His mind numb with mortification, Will made a beeline for his bedroom, ignoring the cheerful shouts and sounds of crackers upstairs. How could this have happened? How could she have disliked him, _hated_ him, for months while he still loved her? What if her words were true?

Pulling out a paper and pen, Will threw them onto the desk and began to pace once more. Two things had to be addressed before anything else. Two things he was positive she had been wrong about. The rest… the rest he would deal with later.

Flinging himself into the chair, he sat and began to write. He wrote furiously for almost an hour, desperate to get the words onto the paper. Blocking out any other thoughts, he focused on making Eliza understand. The thought of her spending even another day laboring under the lies of Wickham was not acceptable. As for Bingley… he did his best to explain his motivations. Surely she could at least appreciate that.

With a very heavy heart, he signed the last page of his letter. The moment his hand stopped moving, the thoughts flooded over him again. Eliza's voice drowned out any other sound. _The last man in the world I could ever be with…_ those words, so mortifying just an hour ago, were now followed by a question: why? He had to know. He had to understand why she hated him… and if there was any chance of changing her mind.

Needless to say, Will barely got any sleep that night, and even the little sleep he did get was spent replaying the evening over and over in his mind. When he woke at the crack of dawn, he was exhausted, but the sunlight did not stop his mind from still dwelling on his botched encounter with Eliza. He rubbed his eyes and looked over his letter once more. If nothing else, he told himself, she would finally know the truth about Wickham. And that was a success in itself.

Around one, Will finally deigned to put on clothing and go downstairs. His aunt and Richard were still asleep, having only gone to bed six hours before. His mind and body were still numb, and he felt no trepidation as the elevator made its descent to the tenth floor. He would only see Eliza for a moment. One tiny, precious moment.

He was led into the kitchen by the maid, but only found Charlotte, looking a little worse for the wear, at the table. She gave Will a shaky smile, and he wondered for one heart-stopping moment whether Eliza had told her about last night.

"Sorry I look so horrible, Will, I've only just woken up," Charlotte said. Will breathed a sigh of relief and fiddled with the envelope in his hands.

"I was looking for Eliza," he said.

Charlotte winced and put a hand to her temple. "She went out for a walk," she said hoarsely. "About a half hour ago."

"Thank you," Will said quietly, and then left. Although his stomach felt unusually clenched, he made the short trip to Central Park still feeling rather deadened. He walked for about ten minutes, craning his neck every which way looking for her. He was about to make a turn when he saw Eliza: she was sitting on a small boulder, her head down. In spite of himself, his heart leapt and he hurried toward her.

_Make it quick…_ "Eliza," he said as he approached her. She looked up quickly; she, too, looked like she had gotten very little sleep. There were purple circles around her eyes, and she looked a little frightened to see him.

"I had hoped to see you," he said. "Would you… would you just read this letter, please?" he asked, putting the envelope in her hands. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode as fast as he could out of the park.

Two hours later, he was on a plane for England. Whether he would ever see Eliza again, he didn't know. But he had the feeling she would never quite leave him, even if he never did.

* * *

When Darcy left the apartment, Eliza sank into her bed, fully dressed. Her anger was slowly being replaced by utter wonder. She was astonished that Darcy had loved her – _loved _her – for months and she had known nothing of it. She couldn't help but feel impressed by the fact that even though he had torn Bingley from Jane, he would have been willing to be in a relationship himself with her, Jane's sister.

Eliza rolled onto her side, willing herself not to cry. She'd never had someone in love with her before, and she had gotten the distinct feeling that Darcy had never been in love with anyone before. If it weren't for that damn pride of his! The way he'd carried on about family, and tradition… and the way he'd bluntly admitted to breaking up Bingley and Jane. How could he have been surprised by her reaction? She had never really hidden the fact that she didn't like him. Unless he thought it was some sort of reverse-flirting… she was starting to feel nauseous.

Her sleep was fitful that night. She never changed out of her dress, and her mind just kept repeating over and over her horrible conversation with Darcy. Every time, she woke up feeling just as astonished as the last.

When the morning finally came, Eliza was exhausted. She dragged herself out of bed and changed her clothes, hanging her now-wrinkled dress in the closet. She made herself a very large cup of coffee and then sat at the window seat, where the first rays of sun were just trickling in. It seemed her sleep – or lack thereof – had sufficiently rid her mind of thoughts from last night. Indeed, her mind was completely blank as she sipped her coffee.

Charlotte did not wake up until noon, by which point Eliza had decided she was in desperate need of fresh air. The temperature had dropped considerably, and the forecast warned of snow, but she bundled up anyway, making sure to open the bottle of aspirin for Charlotte on her way out.

The park wasn't crowded, and Eliza ambled around for some time. The wind was picking up, striking her hard in the face, but she refused to go back inside. The freezing air woke her up far more than the coffee had, and her mind started to feel clear at last. After about an hour, her feet were nearly frozen, so she sat down a boulder and started to sway her legs back and forth, trying to revive some feeling in them.

She had only been sitting a minute when she heard, "Eliza."

She jerked her head up, only to see Darcy coming towards her, his face reddened from the cold. Despite herself, she thought he looked quite handsome. Her stomach clenched, and she found she could not quite meet his eye.

"I had hoped to see you," he said, his breath forming large clouds as he spoke. "Would you… would you just read this letter, please?"

And he thrust an envelope in her hands. She stared down at it for a second; it simply said _Elizabeth_ on the front. But when she looked back up, he was gone.

Eliza couldn't imagine what could be in the letter, and found she didn't really want to open it. What if he just repeated what he'd said last night? Or what if he now hated her, and it was full of spewing insults? The envelope shook in her freezing hands. She flipped it over, her curiosity battling her better judgment. Finally, curiosity won out… she just had to know.

_Eliza,_

_First of all, please don't be afraid that I'm going to repeat any of what I said last night that was so unpleasant to you. I thought an e-mail would be too impersonal, and, forgive me, a face-to-face conversation too painful. I would, however, like to explain and defend myself in regards to the two things you accused me of last night: George Wickham, and my interference with your sister and my friend Charles Bingley. I apologize if some of what I have to say is not to your liking, but please know it is all the truth._

_I knew on the first night of our stay in Long Island_ _that Charles already liked your sister a great deal. It wasn't until our party at Netherfield_ _Beach, however, that I realized he was quite serious about her. I've seen him in love several times before; I know the signs. I also realized from the behaviour of your family that Charles' attachment to your sister had raised some – expectations. I decided then and there to watch him more closely; your sister as well. I saw that Charles was indeed, far more in love with your sister than I have ever seen him before. Your sister was friendly and kind towards Charles, but no more so than with anyone else. I was convinced that she did not feel the same way about Charles. You know your sister far better than I do, so if I was mistaken, I apologize. If Jane did love Charles, then your anger towards me would be very reasonable. However, I will stand firm in my belief that your sister did not _show _any signs of being in love, and more so than anything else, I was attempting to save my friend from another heartbreak. The matter of your family only compounded my opinion; their lack of manners or any sense of decorum was more alarming to me than anything concerning wealth or class. You and your sister alone seemed the only ones with some common sense. I'm sorry – I truly hate to offend you, but I did promise to tell the truth. After the party at your aunt's house, I confided my thoughts on Jane to Charles. Needless to say, his sisters had similar thoughts, and we left for the city very soon afterward. Persuading Charles to leave was not difficult, as, I must admit, he holds my opinion in high esteem. There is, however, one part of this whole situation which I do not congratulate myself on; I knew your sister had moved into the city, not far from our house – I bumped into her one night on the way home from work. I never mentioned this to Charles, and now I think that that sort of deception was uncalled for. Nonetheless, what's done is done, and I have nothing else to say on the matter. If I hurt your sister, please know it was unknowingly done; my actions may seem unfounded to you, but I haven't yet learned to think the same._

_As to the second, rather more serious accusation – I don't know what George Wickham has told you, so I can only tell you the truth. George's father was a good man and a very loyal employee; my own father invited them to live on the estate because Mr. Wickham was left broke after a nasty divorce from his wife. My father provided everything for George, including an education at Oxford_ _with me. My father liked him because he was charming and funny; I, however, had always known him in a different light. George had never been one for honesty, went through girls faster than he changed his socks, and rarely did any of his own schoolwork. He graduated with relatively good grades only by having a large network of "friends" who did his work for him and were compensated generously for doing so. My father was none the wiser about this, because I never told him. Dad had been proud of me in his own way, but we never quite had the sort of friendship he'd had with George. When he died, shortly before our graduation from Oxford, his will indicated the everything was left to me, but there was a recommendation to me from my father that I allow George to come with me to law school and then have a job in the family firm. He also left George a sum of money, equaling roughly $500,000. I rather reluctantly transferred the money to George's account, and sure enough, five days later he was gone. _

_My father's death had been very sudden, so settling his estate and will took up a lot of my time. Looking back, I realized I should not have left my sister alone then, who was on summer break at the time and living alone at Pemberley. Without my knowledge, George had not disappeared, as it had seemed, but instead was hanging around Pemberley and spending time with my sister, who was fifteen at the time. I was in London, but returned home in mid-July to find my sister gone. I cannot even begin to describe my panic. She had left a note saying she had gone with George and his band as they toured England_ _and the continent. I knew what George and his band were like – drunkards and drug addicts, mostly. I immediately called Georgia_'_s cell phone, which she answered; she had not run away to spite me, she had merely been taken in by George and his charms. I think she felt guilty, as she told me exactly where they were in London. I went straight back to London_ _and found them in a seedy apartment building in the East End. It was worse than I had imagined though: my sister was strung out and showed all the signs of being an addict. When I walked in I found needles scattered around her; she had lost weight and her eyes were bloodshot. I thought she was asleep, but she didn't wake when I shook her. Again, panic started to set in. I had to fight off George, who was also high and refused to let me leave with her. I left him behind and took Georgia_ _straight to the hospital, where I was told she had overdosed. She was in a coma for the next five days. When she woke up, she cried and apologized for hours. She said George had come to the house about a month ago while I was in London_ _and persuaded her to start using heroin, to ease the pain of her father's death. Even as I sat there, listening to her, she started to shake and shiver. I called to have her immediately transferred from the hospital to a rehabilitation center in Scotland, far away from all our family and friends. They told me at the rehab center that it would be several months before she could be let go, due to the massive amount of drugs she had taken in so short a span of time. I bid her goodbye and then left England_ _to travel. It was the worst year of my entire life. Before I left, however, I cut off George's bank account, cancelled all his credit cards, and banned him from Pemberley's grounds. I can admit to you, Eliza, that I wished to do him more bodily harm, but was luckily persuaded out of this. When I returned, I put my sister in a new school and refused to talk about any of this to anyone. There had been rumours, of course, but they died after awhile and no knew any of what had happened. The last I heard of Wickham, he had moved to the States with his band and was undoubtedly still using. When I saw him at your aunt's party, it had been the first time since I'd collected my sister from his filthy apartment. It was a shock, to be sure, and I hope you now understand my reaction. _

_All that I've told you has been the truth, and only one other person knows it: my cousin, Richard, who can testify to the truth of this story if need be. If your hatred of me makes you wary to believe it, I would hope you'd believe it from him. I hope, Eliza, that you will now acquit me of any cruelty towards George Wickham. I don't know how he lied to you about me, but it isn't any wonder he was successful. You could never have detected that he was lying, and I, although I knew you had the wrong idea about me and him, was reluctant to tell you the truth. As I said before, only myself, my cousin, my sister, and Wickham himself know the particulars. However, after last night, I couldn't bear the thought of you still laboring under Wickham's lies._

_I will try to get this letter to you tomorrow. I will only say thank you for reading it, and I pray you will put your confidence in everything I've said._

_Yours truly,_

_William Darcy_

Eliza read the letter through at least ten times, her face growing hotter each time. The first time through, she couldn't believe he would even try to apologize. She barely took in a word, she was so prejudiced to not believe a word he said. His account of what had happened on Long Island with her sister she instantly believed to be false; every word made her angrier. He didn't sound apologetic, he sounded haughty and even _congratulated_ himself for what he'd done.

When the letter turned to his description of Wickham, however, she did not know what to feel. She read this part through with a little more clarity, and although she kept thinking that it had to false, another part of her recognized that it did bear a resemblance to the story Wickham had told her. Completely flustered, she actually put the letter away in her pocket, vowing to never think of it again.

A minute later, however, the letter was again unfolded and she was reading it eagerly. She read and reread the part concerning Wickham, looking for anything that could prove one story over the other. Slowly, as her fingers turned numb with the cold, Eliza could see no reason for Darcy to be wrong. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. George was, just as Darcy had said, charming and slick. He'd poured his heart out to her after only knowing her for a couple of hours. And then, she thought with a pang, there were all those times he'd not kept his promises: all those times he'd promised to meet her and had failed to show up. Moreover, she knew Darcy was incapable of concocting such a painful story, especially when it concerned his sister. And there was also the point that he referred her to Richard should she need the story confirmed. But there would be no need for that, she thought sadly. She knew it had to be true.

Her insides burned with humiliation and regret. She thought back on their conversation last night and felt keenly ashamed of the things she'd shouted at him. She'd been so wrong! Sure, she'd been angry, but she'd had no right to fling George in his face. Especially when it must have been so painful for him. Poor Georgia… Eliza understood completely why Darcy chose not to divulge that secret to just anyone, and suddenly felt a bit of compassion for him. No wonder he was so haughty and reserved, she thought, after living with such pain. _He loved me…_

Her attention, however, then turned to the other part of the letter. She read it through several more times, trying to keep a clear and cool head. First off, she chose to forgive him for insulting her family; she often felt the same way herself, so how could she not? As she read through the rest over and over again, she felt her cheeks once again burn. It was true. All of it was true. Even _she_ had tried to warn Jane of being too reserved. She remembered painfully what Charlotte had said to her all those months ago. And if it was true that Charles had a history of falling in love without being loved back, then Darcy's actions were completely merited. This realization was more painful than anything else.

Eliza had never been so ashamed and depressed in her life. She sat on that boulder, the freezing wind whipping her hair, and cried. She hated herself for acting so despicably towards Darcy. _He loved me…_ the words just kept filtering through her mind, along with the horribly unfounded accusations she'd made towards him. Why couldn't she have just stopped talking?

Whether it was minutes or hours later that she finally stood up, she didn't know. Her tears were nearly frozen on her face. She walked slowly back through the park, across the street, and into the sudden warmth of the hotel, all the while keeping Darcy's letter in her hands. The unexpected heat when she stepped inside made her feel almost faint, and she just barely made it to the elevator. Tearing off her coat, she furiously wiped away any trace of tears. She hoped to make as normal an entrance as possible, and when she came into the apartment, she found Charlotte sitting in the living room reading.

"Lizzie, there you are!" she cried, standing and taking Eliza's coat. "Good Lord, you're freezing! Go over to the fire, I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Eliza gratefully sat by the fire and gently tucked her letter into her pocket. Charlotte bustled around in the kitchen while Eliza stared into the flames, her mind still churning with thoughts.

"There we are," Charlotte said a few minutes later, handing Eliza a steaming mug of hot cocoa. "I was honestly about to send out a search party. Darcy was here for a bit…"

"He was?" Eliza said quickly; her stomach dropped but her heart leapt just a little.

"Well, yeah, only to say goodbye. He left for England a few hours ago."

Eliza's heart dropped again. "Oh." She suddenly felt a little panicked. What if she never saw him again? Somehow, sometime, she had to apologize.

"And then Richard was here for a while after _that_, he waited around forever for you. He was about to go out looking for you, but I thought you just had to be shopping or something."

Eliza shrugged, her mind still half on the letter. "No, I was just walking."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "God, Lizzie, you're going to get a cold!" She stood up, shaking her head. "I'm going to go get some of that medicine, you know the stuff that you take beforehand so you stop the cold before it starts."

"No, Charlotte, I really-" Eliza started to protest, but Charlotte was already out of the room. Eliza sighed and inched a little closer to the fireplace. She felt exhausted; her emotions had been on such a raging rollercoaster for the past two days, she could barely move. Checking that Charlotte was still busy in the powder room, Eliza took out the letter again. Smoothing out the envelope, she ran over it with her fingers, smiling a little at Darcy's neat, perfect handwriting.

_Elizabeth.

* * *

_

A/N: Woot! Finally, the turning point. It was nice and long and romantic so everyone better review! We're over 200 I'm so excited... keep it up!

I know some people may be a little disappointed that there wasn't more Darcy/Lizzie-ness before the proposal, but don't you worry - once we get to Pemberly, there'll be loads more! That's not for another two chapters or so though...

Anyway, review review review!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	19. Life Goes On and On

Chapter 19 – _Life Goes On and On_

Days, weeks, and months passed by. May was fast approaching, bringing with it Eliza's graduation from college. The thought terrified her, even though she did have a plan: she would get her master's degree, then work, and then maybe someday get her doctoral. But though she wasn't quite finished with school yet, somehow the idea that she was graduating college made her fully appreciate the fact that she was an adult now, fully independent and responsible for her own decisions. She was still living at home, a fact that didn't fully please her and something she hoped to rectify as soon as possible. Before graduate school started in the autumn, she hoped to get a job that would enable her to save enough money to perhaps move into the city soon, close to school.

On the day of her graduation, Eliza woke to find it raining torrents outside. _Perfect_, she thought as she slumped back against her pillows. Of course, the graduation could be moved inside, but the sight of the dull, gray day seemed to bode ill.

Jane had come to stay for the weekend, and she was sleeping peacefully in her old bed. She herself had saved enough money to start renting a small apartment in Manhattan; nothing compared to what she had had at the Gardiner's, of course, but the fact that she had her own apartment seemed to boost her confidence enormously.

Eliza rolled over onto her side and opened her nightstand drawer, rummaging around for a chapstick. Instead of finding it, however, her hand fell upon an envelope. Her heart racing ever so faster, she quietly pulled it out and opened it. Out fell Darcy's letter. Despite the jam-packed past few months, Eliza had every once in a while pulled out his letter, which would send her back into a tizzy of thoughts and emotions. She looked over at Jane, whose lips were forming a very small smile. Eliza sighed and ran her hand over the letter; she'd never told anyone of its contents, or of what had passed between her and Will Darcy. She felt as if, were she to say it aloud, it would become all too real to her that she would never see or talk to him again, and that was a little too painful to bear. Over the months, his letter, and the words he'd said that night, had become almost a source of comfort to her. Although she still felt his words had been completely condescending and haughty, she now looked back on them with a smile. It was quite humorous in retrospect, in fact; his going on and on about family and honor and tradition. But then she remembered what she had said and the smile fell off her face. If only he knew how much his letter had changed her…

Jane stirred and Eliza quickly threw the letter back into her drawer. She got out of bed and shook all thoughts of Darcy from her mind. It wasn't really worth thinking back on him, anyway.

To her great pleasure, her father was sitting at the kitchen table, as if waiting for her. She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, Dad," she said as she busied herself making coffee and breakfast.

"Good morning, dear," he replied, putting down his paper. When she sat down with her eggs and reached for a part of the paper, though, he stopped her with his hand.

"Oh, Lizzie," he said slowly, and she noticed that he looked very sad indeed.

"What's wrong?" she said quickly, her stomach clenching. But then he turned his head and gave her a small smile.

"I remember when you were just five years old, and you used to come into my study all the time, just poring over all my books," he started to say, and Eliza eased. She hadn't exactly expected this, but it was not unwelcome. Her father sighed and then grinned.

"Who knew I was such a sap?" he said with a chuckle. She smiled and patted her father's hand.

"I did," she said.

"I never really thought you would grow up and leave me," he said. "I thought you would stay ten years old forever."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I still _feel_ ten years old sometimes," she said. He laughed.

"I don't know if I can survive in this house without you," he said with a smile.

She smiled too, but suddenly what he was saying washed over her, causing her to be momentarily terrified: she was going to leave, be all on her own, for the first time in her life. The thought that she wouldn't be very far away did not console her.

"Dad… you'll come visit me, right? And I can come home whenever, right?" she said, hating her voice for sounding scared.

He smiled knowingly. "Every week," he said.

She took a deep breath and began to eat her eggs. She hadn't thought graduating college would be quite so stressful, but it was. She was leaving the last safety cocoon; from now on, her life was entirely her own.

The morning passed quickly. Her father was suspiciously absent as Eliza's entire family hurried about, getting ready to go to the ceremony. Eliza thought with a smile that half the auditorium would consist of just her family, as not only were all her sisters going, but her aunt and uncle as well. She was ready before everyone else, and as she stood by the door she couldn't help but feeling buoyed by the idea that she had so many people who loved her. That feeling died quickly when she was unceremoniously shoved out the door and into the car.

"Hurry, Lizzie, or we'll be late!" her mother screeched. The family filed into two cars and then left the driveway, a mini army of Bennets. Rain was still falling by the bucket load, and they barely went over 20 miles an hour as they inched toward Manhattan. Now Eliza was feeling panicked for an entirely different reason.

"We're not going to make it!" she cried, looking at her watch for the twentieth time. It showed 1:30; the ceremony was to start at 2:00. Eliza was supposed to be there by now.

"Not much longer!" her father said from the front seat, and then suddenly, the car took off at full speed. They had broken free from the crowds; by the looks of it, most New Yorkers were staying safely inside. Her father raced along the streets, while her mother shrieked and moaned. Eliza held onto the door for dear life, and when the car pulled up to the auditorium, she flung herself out of the car, not waiting to say goodbye. She heard the car screech off to the parking garage as she opened the doors and hurried in, shaking herself off. Taking out her graduation cap, she noticed with a sigh of relief that there were several other people who were late as well, including her friend Kate.

"Kate!" she shouted as she hurried toward her.

"Lizzie! Thank God you're late, too!" Kate said, who looked drenched from head to toe. "It took us three _hours_ to get her," she moaned; Kate lived in Pennsylvania.

"It took us an hour," Eliza said, but before they could say anything else, they were being rushed into their seats. Once in her plastic chair, Eliza turned to try and see if her family had arrived yet, but the lights were dim and the place packed. She sighed and turned her attention forward.

The ceremony was lovely, if a bit long. Eliza clutched her diploma and her cap while the crowds nearly crushed her as they filed out. She waited off to the side, until the crowd had mostly subsided. Then she left the auditorium, and almost immediately saw her large family waiting by the stairs.

"Lizzie!" Her parents hugged her tightly; her mother was covered in tears. Jane hugged her as well, but her younger sisters were off to the side, looking bored and playing with their cellphones. Next came her aunt and uncle Gardiner, who hugged her, but couldn't say anything due to the deafening din of the lobby.

"Let's go home," her father shouted, and they all made their way through the lobby to the door to the parking garage. The rain had not let up, so it was almost 5:30 by the time they got home. Her mother immediately set about making dinner, while the rest of the family changed. Eliza was the first one to come back downstairs, and the moment she did, she was called into the living room by her aunt and uncle.

"First of all, Lizzie, we're very proud of you," Aunt Anne said.

"Thanks. It means a lot that you came," Eliza said.

"Well, we've been thinking a lot the past few weeks," Uncle John.

"Trying to come up with the perfect gift," Aunt Anne continued.

"Oh, you guys didn't have –" Eliza started, but they both held up their hands.

"Yes, we did," Aunt Anne said. "Although we have to admit, it's a bit of gift for me, as well."

Eliza raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"We're taking you to England, for six weeks," Uncle John finally proclaimed.

Eliza's mouth fell open. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. We're going in July," Aunt Anne said; her face was glowing. "Oh, Lizzie, you're going to love it so much, I'm going to show you all the places I remember growing up."

Aunt Anne had spent much of her youth in England, so there was little wonder she looked so excited.

"I'm going to have you meet all my old friends… none of that touristy stuff, you know," she went on.

Eliza was still struck speechless. Uncle John smiled shrewdly at her.

"What, you don't like it?" he said.

"Are you kidding?" Eliza screeched. "That's… I mean… that's the best present ever!" she spluttered, flinging herself forward to hug her aunt and uncle.

They spent much of the rest of the evening talking about the trip; or, at least, listening to Aunt Anne go on and on about all the places they would visit. Eliza ended the day feeling quite contented; all of a sudden, the summer was looking very promising.

* * *

"And now I am honored to present the Distinguished Citizen award to the chief partner of Darcy & Darcy legal firm, Lord William Darcy!"

Will smiled a little sheepishly as he made his way toward the podium. He had only been told three days ago that he was winning this award, and so had scrambled to compose a speech as quickly as he could. Indeed, he was winning the award after only three months of donating half of his salary to local charities.

As he took his place in front of the microphone, he had to beam as he caught sight of his sister still clapping, even though everyone else had stopped. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Mr. Tibbs," he began. "It has always been the Darcy family's belief that with wealth comes the responsibility to do your share for others who do not have the same luxuries. About four months ago, after graduating law school and overtaking my father's place in the firm, I realized that I have not been doing my share."

_You were the last man in the entire world I could ever be with…_

"I decided then," Will continued, "that my salary was far more than I could ever need."

_You have only proved yourself to be arrogant, conceited…_

"And so I began giving it to those who need it much more than I do," Will said, his voice a little louder than it needed to be. "My entire life, I have been given whatever I want, and now it is my turn to give to others whatever it is that they need."

_Selfish, and hold nothing but disdain for the feelings of others…_

Will paused and took a breath, trying to get the voice out of his head. When he noticed the crowd of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen staring anxiously at him, he took a sip of water to account for the silence.

"The city of London has long been a haven of excellence in every field, from science to the arts. I am very proud to be counted as one who encourages that excellence, and strives to push forward with it."

_Your rudeness and apparent inability to be a gentleman…_

"And that is why," he continued loudly; several people in the front row looked slightly alarmed, "I am very pleased to announce tonight, that this year, the Darcy and Darcy legal firm will be donating 1.5 million pounds to the Royal London Hospital to go towards a new pediatric cancer care centre."

The crowd erupted into applause; Georgia even stood up. Will was relieved to notice that the voice in his head had silenced, and he smiled appreciatively at the audience as the applauded.

Following the ceremony, Will was introduced to dozens upon dozens of doctors, professors, and prominent businessmen. His photo was taken several times, and he was forced into recounting the details for the new pediatric center many times. But he didn't mind, at least certainly not as much as he would have a year ago. He graciously shook hands and exchanged pleasant chitchat until he noticed Georgia falling asleep at a table nearby. Excusing himself, he took her out of the large hall and they got into a taxi outside.

"So how was I?" he asked, a little nervously. He had not felt very confident about his speech.

"You were _wonderful_," Georgia enthused, who now seemed much more awake.

"Really?" he said incredulously; all he could remember was taking huge pauses between sentences.

"Yes! You seemed…" she trailed off.

"I seemed what?"

"You seemed yourself, is all," she said with a shrug.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said; she grinned and shook her head.

"You weren't grouchy," she said simply. "You actually smiled a few times. It was nice."

Will chuckled, but secretly felt relieved. Relieved that his sister thought that his true self was the non-grouchy, smiling Will and not the exact opposite.

"So the speech was _really_ ok?" he pressed.

"Well, there were a few times where you paused and looked sort of lost, but I think I was the only who noticed," she said.

"Oh… yeah, I just lost my place," Will lied quickly.

"That's what I thought," she said.

They pulled up to their townhouse, and Will paid the driver. Georgia immediately went upstairs to bed, but Will sat down on the couch and poured himself some wine. Flipping through the channels, he found he still could not concentrate.

It was as it had been on and off for the past five months; suddenly, Eliza would take up every spare thought he had, her words from New Year's Eve repeating over and over in his mind. He had memorized every word she'd said that night, and he had found in January that he could not forget them. So he'd taken them and turned them into a tool, a motivation. If there was any chance in hell or heaven that he would ever see her again, he did not want to be _that_ Will that she'd known. He wanted to be the Will that he knew he actually was, the one he was only with his family.

It certainly had not been easy, and indeed, tonight had been his first big test. He'd worked on little things before: giving his secretary a raise, walking instead of driving to work, getting to know his neighbors, talking to the cashier at the deli. But he'd not been at a function or a party yet, where he would have to meet and talk with large amounts of people, something he would have detested six months ago. But, he thought with a smile, he was sure he had passed with flying colors. He had been pleasant, shared some of his best jokes, and had even exchanged chitchat with Lord Tinsley, who happened to be the most contemptuously boring man on the face of the earth. He leaned back on the couch and settled in for a screening of _Charade_, content for the first time in many months.

The following morning found Will still on the couch, his tux now rumpled and wrinkled. There was a note on the coffee table from Georgia, saying she'd gone shopping with friends for the day and would call later. Will rubbed his eyes and sat up; a bad move, he quickly found out, as his back spasmed in pain. His sleeping position had apparently not been the most comfortable one and he fell back onto the couch with a groan. His back fell into a dull, throbbing pain, and he tried once again to get up. No such luck.

Groping for the phone, Will cursed silently to himself as he dialed his sister's number. Ring followed ring until her voicemail picked up. Cursing out loud this time, he furiously dialed Bingley's number, who picked up one the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Charles, it's Will," Will croaked into the phone.

"Will? You sound awful," Charles said.

"My back is going into spasms, I can't move."

"I'll be right there."

Before Will could say another word, Charles had hung up and was undoubtedly rushing out the door. He lived a mere five blocks away, so Will was not surprised when there was a knock at the door five minutes later.

"Will? Will!" he heard Charles calling from the hall.

"In here!" Will yelled, and soon Charles appeared in the room, dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. He looked momentarily confused by Will's appearance, but then sat down on the table and looked at him.

"Here, put this pillow under your back," he said first, grabbing a fluffy pillow from another chair. Will gingerly lifted his back a little and Charles stuffed the pillow under.

"Alright, I'll go get water and aspirin," Charles said, and hurried into the kitchen. Will shifted uncomfortably as he tried to lift up his head a little. Charles quickly came back in, and Will gratefully took the medicine, and downed the glass of water in one gulp. He then settled back and tried to relax.

"Do you mind me asking how exactly you got here?" Charles said with a smile, gesturing to the couch.

"Well, I got home late from the award thing last night, and I ended up just crashing on the couch," Will explained, grimacing as his back throbbed.

"Oh right… how was it?"

Will shrugged. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"It was pretty nice. Everyone was very pleasant."

Charles looked at Will in alarm. "_Pleasant_?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Will said defensively.

"You mean you actually talked to someone?" Charles said.

"Yes, I met a lot of people."

Charles stared for a second and then narrowed his eyes. "What's up with you lately?"

"What do you mean?" Will asked, averting his eyes.

"I don't know, but you've been acting kind of odd lately," Charles explained.

"Odd how?"

"Well, with strangers…" he trailed off, as if trying to find the right words. "You're just more yourself, I guess. That's not a bad thing!" he added hastily at the look on Will's face. "No, I'm happy for it. I was just wondering, is all."

Will stared at his feet and didn't answer.

"It's not… it's not that you've met someone, is it?" Charles asked.

Will loosened the top few buttons on his shirt. He had never breathed a word of what had happened between him and Eliza to anyone, nor was he about to. He shrugged and tried to appear normal.

"No, not at all," he said, and then looked over at Charles, who suddenly seemed lost in thought staring at the Oriental rug. "Charles?" Will asked. "What's wrong?"

Charles started and looked up at Will. "Me? Nothing." He paused, again resuming his gaze toward the carpet. "I just… can I admit something to you, Will?"

"Sure, anything," Will said, intrigued.

"I had a dream about her last night… Jane," he said. Will flushed and looked away quickly. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"Who?" Will asked, feigning forgetfulness.

"Jane Bennet! Remember, from Long Island… in the States?" Charles went on, his expression somehow wild now. "I dreamt about her last night."

"Oh right, her," Will said. _She loved Bingley, and you tore them apart!_

There was a long silence between the two friends. And then Will decided it was time to say something, before Eliza's voice drowned out all other thought.

"Listen, Charles…" he began. Charles looked up at him.

"Did you… did you love her?" Will asked. "I mean, _really_ love her, not like you were in love with all those other girls."

Charles paused, staring at Will. Will felt distinctly uncomfortable, and suddenly realized that Charles had not been with a girl since they had left Long Island. He had never gone that long without a girlfriend before.

"I really think I did," Charles finally answered. Will nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"What for?" Charles asked.

"For dragging you away from there. I probably shouldn't have," Will said, but Charles shook his head.

"But if she didn't love me, then I'd be in a worse position than I am now. I should be thanking you," Charles replied.

"_If_ she didn't love you, Charles," Will said, with a sharp intake of breath; he had made a small movement that made his back scream in agony. "You don't know for sure."

Charles looked at him thoughtfully, but then shrugged and smiled, although it seemed very forced. "Ah well, it's all in the past, right? It's not like we'll ever see those Bennets again."

Will nodded and slumped back into the couch. God did he hope Charles was wrong.

* * *

A/N: Yay for new chapter! Please please please review! I love you all very much.

Just a note, I probably should have specified last chapter, but the bit at the very beginning of Chapter 18 was in fact part of the song We Can Work it Out by the Beatles, where, as you might have guessed, we get our title from! I happened to be listening to it one day while I was writing the very first chapter, and I was like, wow! These lyrics correlate very nicely to the story! So voila, I had a title.

So please review – I am over the moon about how many reviews this story gets. You are all fantabupendous! (my own word, which you can use anytime you like)

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	20. Comings and Goings

**Chapter 20** - _Comings and Goings_

Summer started off slowly and very hot. Eliza got a part-time job at the Metropolitan Museum of Art as a receptionist, but all she really did was think of or talk about her upcoming trip to England. Her aunt visited her regularly at the museum, each time telling her about a different friend or relative that they would visit. Eliza enjoyed each and every story, until her aunt came to see her on a certain Monday, about a week away from their departure.

"Lizzie! You will not believe whom I've just heard from," Aunt Anne said that morning, leaning against Eliza's desk. Eliza eagerly looked up from her stapling.

"Who?"

"My old friend Mary! Oh, we used to be so close… we took dance lessons together in grade school. She never went to college you know, decided to work right away… well anyway, I finally found her. I've been trying to contact her for months now!" Aunt Anne said excitedly, her face glowing.

"That's great, Aunt Anne," Eliza said, smiling.

"Oh, I'm so excited to see her. She said we could visit her the first week of August, before her boss comes home."

Eliza furrowed her brow. "Huh?" she said, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Well, she's a housekeeper. Actually, I shouldn't say that, it sounds belittling. I mean, she practically runs the entire estate… she's in charge of running this historical manor called Pemberley."

_Pemberley…_why did that sound familiar?

"The man who owns it does live there still, but I guess he splits his time between there and London, and he won't be at Pemberley until later in August." Anne paused. "She did tell me his name… what was it?"

"Darcy?" Eliza asked quietly. Her stomach had suddenly turned icy cold.

"Yes! How on Earth did you know that?" Aunt Anne exclaimed.

"I… um… I met him last year. He rented a house near us," Eliza said. What a feeble explanation, she thought, her heart falling.

Her aunt let out a burst of laughter. "What a small world!" she said. "Too bad we won't see him, then."

Eliza wanted to scream, shout, yell at her aunt that she would never set foot on the Pemberley grounds. But her aunt looked so happy and excited, that she bit her lip and kept her feelings to herself.

"Not really," Eliza said, shrugging. "He was the most arrogant man I've ever met," she forced herself to say, returning to her stapling with a little more aggression than was needed. Her aunt smiled and shook her head.

"Oh Lizzie, you're such a snob."

Eliza looked up quickly. "No, I'm not!"

Her aunt laughed again, her grey eyes crinkling at the edges. "Well, even if he is arrogant, Mary said he has one of the most magnificent homes in the country. And it's one of the best preserved. She said the dining room table has been there since the 1700s."

As her aunt chattered on happily about Pemberley, Mary, and the house's splendid grounds, Eliza was becoming more and more panicked. She had to admit that she was dying to see the estate, but how could she? She didn't think she could bear to walk around in his home, look at his fine art, or even touch his perfectly preserved staircase after what she'd done to him. He hated her now, he had to. He'd probably banned her from the grounds, even. Perhaps he'd even forgotten her by now. She couldn't blame him, but the thought made tears prick behind her eyes.

"Anyway, I've checked the weather and the first few days we're there should be pretty warm, but I'd still pack pants and a few sweaters if I were you, Lizzie. Lizzie? Are you even listening to me?"

Eliza jerked herself out of her thoughts and looked at her aunt. "Sorry… I'm pretty tired. Haven't had my coffee yet, you know."

But her aunt was looking at her with an annoyingly shrewd look. "Elizabeth, is there something you want to tell me?"

Eliza noted the use of her full name, and came very close to telling her aunt the entire, horrible story. But then she bit her tongue and shook her head. After all, she told herself, if she _had_ told her aunt about her and William Darcy, her aunt would have cancelled their trip to Pemberley, and then Eliza would just feel even worse about preventing her aunt from seeing an old friend.

A few minutes later, Aunt Anne left to go show a few apartments. Eliza busied herself with her work, but her mind was elsewhere. She had not thought of Darcy in quite some time, but now she couldn't stop. She just kept picturing seeing and talking to him again, and how horrible it would be to watch him glare at her, or worse, ignore her completely.

By Friday, her last day at work before the trip, Eliza was still preoccupied with thoughts of Darcy and her imminent visit to Pemberley. She just had to make sure, positively and absolutely sure, that he wouldn't be there, or she would go plum insane.

Around noon, while everyone else filed out to go to lunch, the office slowly became deathly silent. The phone hadn't rung in hours, and Eliza had already finished all of her filing. Looking around to make sure no one was still there, and feeling completely foolish, Eliza turned to her computer. Her heart racing, she opened the internet and searched for "Darcy & Darcy legal firm + London". The page popped up, and there it was: Darcy's website. Eliza drummed her fingernails on the desk, torn between her need to find out if Darcy was in London and her feeling of complete idiocy. Finally, she clicked the link and up came the website, William Darcy's face staring out of the screen at her. She hadn't seen him in so long, and his face startled her a little. She hadn't remembered him being quite _that_ handsome, and for a moment she found herself just staring at the screen. Soon, though, she shook her head and scrolled up and down, looking for a phone number. Finally, she found one at the very bottom. It was now or never.

Screwing up her courage, she picked up her phone and dialed the international code. Having had to do this several times for museum business, she knew to wait for the automated voice. Finally a robotic female voice came through, telling her to type in the phone number, which she did quickly. Several seconds later, it started to ring.

"Hello, Darcy and Darcy legal firm, how can I help you?" came a cool, British female's voice. Eliza took a deep breath.

"Yes, hello, I was wondering if I could set up an appointment with Mr. Darcy?" she said, donning her best English accent. She felt her face become hot with embarrassment.

"Which one?" said the woman, sounding amused.

"Oh, sorry… William, William Darcy," Eliza said, her face sinking into her hand.

"Alright then… did you have a time in mind?" the secretary asked.

"Well, how about the third week of August?" Eliza asked, biting her lip.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy is out of the office then. He will be in London until August 12th."

"You're sure? You're absolutely sure he'll be in London until then?" Eliza asked, suddenly not caring how stupid she sounded.

"Yes, I'm very sure," the woman replied slowly. Eliza leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" the woman asked after several seconds. "Are you still there?"

Eliza gasped despite herself; she had quite forgotten about the phone.

"Sorry, I'll have to call back," she said quickly, and then hung up. With her peace of mind back intact, Eliza happily finished her day, now very eager to get home and start packing.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't know, Will, I think you should just skive off early. You could use a break."

Will and Charles were sitting in Will's office, eating lunch. Charles was trying to convince Will to leave for Pemberley early, where Charles, Caroline, and Georgia were going to meet him in three weeks time.

"Caroline and I could come early," Charles went on. "And I'm sure Georgia would love to leave London early. We could go on Saturday the sixth and then have a whole month. It'd be good for you."

Will took a gulp of water and glared at Charles. Of course, all of what Charles was saying was completely true: Georgia had been nagging him to go to Pemberley sooner, and even Will himself would love to spend more time there. But he'd been reluctant for only one reason, albeit a very big one. It meant spending an entire extra week in Caroline's presence, whose overtures had been steadily growing stronger and more irksome.

"I'll think about it," Will said.

Charles rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, wrapping up his trash and standing up. "But just a word to the wise: it's a lot easier to avoid Caroline at Pemberley than in London where she knows how to find you all of the time."

With a grin, he left. Will groaned and leaned back in his chair. He thought for a moment, and then pushed the intercom.

"Rose?" he called to his secretary.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's my schedule like for the second week of August?"

There was a pause. "Not too bad, why?"

"Just wondering. Thanks."

Will picked at what was left of his lunch, weighing the pros and cons of going to Pemberley early. Finally, what Charles had said won out: he just had to get away from Caroline, and it _was_ a lot easier to hide in the big house than in his office.

Picking up the phone, he dialed his home phone. It rang several times before a cheerful, older woman came through the receiver.

"Hello, Pemberley Manor?"

"Hello, Mary, it's me."

"Mr. Darcy! It's so wonderful to hear from you, sir," Mary enthused. Mary was his housekeeper who also kept up the gardens and stables, plus ran the tours of the home. He was never quite sure how she did it all.

"I hope everything's well?" he asked.

"Very well, sir," she said.

"Good. Listen, Mary, if it's not too much trouble… Georgia and I were thinking of coming to Pemberley a week earlier than we'd planned."

He had to jerk his ear away from the phone as Mary suddenly shrieked.

"That would be _wonderful_, sir," she said. He couldn't help but smile.

"Alright, then. We'll be coming on Saturday the sixth. I hope you didn't have too many tours planned?" he asked.

"No… well, I do have a friend coming on either the fourth or fifth… but I could just tell her not to…"

"Don't be silly, Mary. Have your friend come. We can make our own beds if you don't get around to it," he joked. Mary chuckled.

"Oh, it'll be nice to have people around here again."

"Good. I'll see you then."

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy."

Will hung up feeling far more content than he had before. He had just begun a deposition when he heard a loud knock at his door; he had no time to answer before Caroline slid in, followed by a grinning Georgia.

"Is it true, Will? Are we leaving London early?" she cried as she bounded into the room and threw her arms around Will.

Will spluttered. "How… how on Earth did you find out?"

"I have my ways," Caroline said, as she, too, came in for a hug. Will feebly put his arms around her but pulled away quickly.

"So it's true?" Georgia repeated.

"Yes, Georgia, it's true," Will answered. She clapped excitedly, her blue eyes shining. Caroline smiled and clapped, too, but the two young women could not have been more different: one, a young, fit, smooth-skinned, blonde girl and the other a tall, thin, black-haired monster.

"Yes! Oh, I'm so excited, thank you Will!" Georgia cried, coming in for another hug. Will laughed and patted her head.

"Anything for you, Georgia," he said, but when he saw Caroline also coming in for another hug, he scooted away to the window, pretending to throw something in the trash.

"Well, that leaves us only two weeks!" Caroline said briskly. She snapped her fingers at Georgia. "We have shopping to do, then."

"Right, Caroline," Georgia said and then let herself be dragged out the door, but not before rolling her eyes at Will. He chuckled, but then settled back into his work. One bad thing about taking vacation early, he found, was that it meant he had more work to do before he left.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, these are all the numbers of the hotels and the dates will be there. My cell won't work over there, so I just left it at home."

Eliza and her family were at the airport at four in the morning, saying goodbye and smoothing out the last details.

"Okay," Jane said.

"I gave a list to Mom, too, but honestly, I'd rather _you_ call me," Eliza said with a smile. Unfortunately, Jane's eyes were suddenly brimming over with tears.

"What's wrong?" Eliza asked quickly, setting down her carry-on bag.

"It's just… six weeks… is so long… and I…" and then Jane broke down into tears. Eliza smiled lightly but moved in to give her sister a big hug. Jane cried onto her shoulder for a minute or two, until Eliza heard her uncle clear his throat loudly behind her.

"Jane, it'll be fine," Eliza said quickly, picking up her bag again. They still had to go through all of security, which could take almost an hour. But how to get her sister to stop crying?

"But we've never gone this long without seeing each other before!" Jane said, her tears ebbing a little.

"I'll call you as much as I can… five times a week," Eliza said with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Six," Jane said with a shaky smile.

"Alright, six it is," Eliza said, extending her hand. Jane shook it, her tears finally ending.

After several hugs, kisses, and metal detectors, Eliza and her aunt and uncle were finally on the plane to England. While they flew over the ocean, her aunt laid out a very detailed itinerary to Eliza while Uncle John snored lightly to their left. Aunt Anne had planned every last thing; they would start out in London, then work their way south to see Canterbury, then north around Birmingham, then Derbyshire to see Pemberley, and then up to Yorkshire where most of her family lived. Eliza became quite dizzy listening to her aunt for several hours.

Indeed, the moment the plane touched down, Aunt Anne had them whisked off to the hotel, where they barely spent ten minutes before she excitedly pushed them out the door. Eliza dazedly followed along in her aunt's wake, staring at the beautiful city around them, barely taking in a word her aunt was saying. They ate first, at a corner restaurant her aunt knew and loved, and then spent the rest of the day sightseeing. It was nearly eleven o'clock before they started heading back to the hotel, where suddenly Eliza's jetlag caught up with her, and she slept soundly for many, many hours.

The following days were some of the best of Eliza's life. They moved quickly, but having Aunt Anne along was a dream. They met dozens of her friends, who showed Eliza the most interesting things that a regular tourist would never see. Every day was a new adventure, as they climbed, hiked, and bicycled through England. Even just two weeks into it, Eliza felt much more relaxed than she had in years, even though they had covered hundreds of miles in a very short span of time.

On the second Friday of their trip, Aunt Anne was bundling them all onto a train at 6 AM. Eliza couldn't quite remember where they were headed to next, but she settled into her seat and happily began drinking some coffee. She had kept her promise to Jane, and had stayed up until midnight in order to call her sister, who had just been returning home from work. They had a nice talk; Jane brought Eliza up to speed with what had been happening at home (which didn't take very long), and then Eliza filled Jane in on where they had been that day and what she'd seen. Jane wanted to know everything, but Eliza reminded her that she'd brought her camera and could show Jane everything when she got home. Due to their phone call, however, Eliza had not gotten to sleep until one in the morning, and so was somewhat groggy as the train churned and started moving. After about a half hour and two more cups of coffee, though, she started to wake up.

"Where are we going?" Eliza asked her aunt; she had asked her aunt this same question almost every other day, as Eliza had forgotten the itinerary five minutes after her aunt had showed it to her.

Aunt Anne smiled; Uncle John was dozing off on her shoulder. "Derbyshire. To see Mary, my friend from grade school."

"Oh right," Eliza said, nodding. "Tell me about her, again?"

"Oh, we used to be thick as thieves. We took dance lessons together… of course, she was tall and thin, and I was short and chubby, so she was much better than I ever was."

Eliza chuckled.

"I think she followed it through all the way through school… we still spoke on the phone almost every day after I moved, but once I went to college…" she trailed off with a shrug. "I should probably call her soon… remind me around eight, Eliza, to call ahead and make sure she can still see us. I told her we'd be there around one in the afternoon."

"Sure, Aunt Anne," Eliza replied. Then she furrowed her brow. "Be where, exactly?"

"Pemberley! Remember? You said you knew him, oh what's his name… Darcy."

Suddenly Eliza felt her stomach turn to stone. How could she have forgotten? Today was the day she would see Pemberley… Will's home…

"Oh right," she forced herself to say. Although she felt sure that the housekeeper would never let them come over if he was at home, she felt an odd mix of horror and pleasure at the idea of running into him, seeing him real and solid. Then, suddenly, she remembered that he must hate her, and the horror definitely overtook her.

As her aunt had requested, Eliza reminded Anne to call Pemberley at eight and make sure they could still come. Apparently Mary was very excited to see them, as Eliza could hear her voice coming through the phone receiver from over six feet away. Aunt Anne had a large smile on her face as she settled back down into her seat.

"Yes, Mary says she's all ready for us. We'll just stop by the hotel for a bit and shower, and then we'll go!" Aunt Anne said, nudging Uncle John to wake up.

"Whazzit? Where are we?" he said groggily. Anne and Eliza chuckled at his unkempt hair as the train came to a slow stop.

Uncle John slowly became more awake as they took their luggage, got into a cab, and went toward the hotel. It was a charming, historic inn several minutes out of the main town. The peaceful scenery of green, rolling hills quelled some of Eliza's anxiety. She was still excited to see Darcy's great estate, but it was somewhat mixed with a sense of foreboding. Somehow, to see his grand house and hear about him from his housekeeper and see pictures of him would bring an awful sense of finality, a sense that she truly would never see him again.

Eliza had a separate room than her aunt and uncle, and so she showered quickly in the delightful bathroom that had a stone floor and antique paintings. She spent several minutes staring at the clothes she had brought with her, but then she firmly reminded herself that there was no way she would see Will today, and so plucked a silk crepe top and jeans off her bed and put them on.

Several minutes later, with her hair and face ready, she slipped on some ballet flats and headed out the door. Her aunt and uncle were already waiting for her in the lobby, but they smiled patiently and then hurried her into the rented car. Uncle John insisted on driving, so the ride consisted mostly of he and his wife bickering about which way to go, how fast he was going, and the fact that he was getting them lost. Eliza sat in the backseat and found it very easy to get lost in her thoughts, most of which circled around Darcy and the horrible things she had said to him all those months ago. It was a few minutes, then, until she noticed that her aunt and uncle were talking to her.

"Eliza? Eliza?"

Eliza jerked herself out of her thoughts and looked up. Her aunt was turned around her seat looking quizzically at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Eliza said quickly. "Just a little tired."

Aunt Anne nodded. "We were talking about Darcy and we wanted you tell us what he's like."

Eliza paused. What could she say? "He's… rich."

Her aunt and uncle burst out laughing. "Well, we knew _that_," Uncle John said after their laughter died down. "But what's he like?"

Eliza shrugged. "I don't know… he's just a snob," she said; _that_ was at least partially true.

Anne rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to the road. "Being rich doesn't necessarily equal being a snob, Lizzie."

"Well, I didn't know him all that well, anyway!" Eliza burst out with a growl. Her aunt and uncle looked surprised, and they quickly changed the subject. Eliza sighed and slumped in her seat, wishing for the day to be over as soon as possible.

Nearly a half hour later, at five after one, they finally turned into the estate. Eliza's head jerked up and she eagerly slid over to the window. Aunt Anne was chattering on about Mary and the house, but Eliza couldn't hear any of it. Tall, beautiful trees lined the long drive; past them she could see walking paths and colorful gardens winding around a small lake. The grounds were breathtaking; meticulous yet amazingly peaceful. Finally the drive bent to the right, and the great house could be seen rising from behind a small hill. Eliza felt an excited jump in her stomach; the massive stone structure was truly amazing. Three stories tall, the reddish-brown stone gleamed in the sun, the innumerous windows twinkling. The façade was not ornate or decorated, but its simplicity made it even more beautiful. Eliza could simply not stop staring as the car made its way down the path and pulled up to the front stairs leading to the door. Her feet hit cobblestone as she got out of the car, but nothing could break her gaze, not even her aunt's high-pitched shriek as she hurried forward to greet her old friend Mary.

"And this must be Eliza!"

Eliza reluctantly looked away from the house at the sound of her name. Mary, a tall woman with silver-streaked red hair was hugging her as if she, too, were an old friend. Eliza dazedly hugged back, and then Mary pulled away and held her at arms-length. The housekeeper had a warm face framed by black wire glasses, and was wearing a simple ensemble of white blouse, black pants, and black flats.

"Welcome to Pemberley, Elizabeth," Mary said. "I see you like it already."

Eliza nodded. "It's an amazing house," she said, although the compliment sounded weak.

Mary smiled as Aunt Anne chimed in, "And the grounds Mary! Don't tell me you do all that gardening yourself?"

"Of course not!" Mary chirped in a thick accent. "We employ almost a half dozen gardeners… and a few yard boys," she said with a wink. Eliza chuckled, but was eager to get inside the house. Mary gratified her as she motioned for them all to follow her inside.

Yet again Eliza's mouth fell open. The foyer was a high-ceilinged, brightly-lit room with a grand chandelier and shiny wood floor. A grand staircase curved up before them, leading to a tapestry that hung on the wall bearing a coat of arms. But before Eliza could even register the antique telephone or historic paintings, they were being whisked off by Mary to start the tour. She took her time, explaining each room and its artifacts, but Eliza still could not help but feel dizzied by the beautiful rooms. It was obvious that some rooms were not meant to be seen by tourists, which were either roped off or sealed behind closed doors. Eliza peeked into one room that was merely roped off; she saw a piano in the corner, but also a wide-screen TV, a huge DVD collection, and several notably contemporary posters on the walls. She smiled a little as she hurried to catch up with Mary and her aunt and uncle. It was nice to know that Darcy didn't just spend his time reading, playing cards, or any other old-fashioned activity.

"This is the old kitchen of course, Mr. Darcy doesn't use this one anymore after he built the new one upstairs," Mary was saying when Eliza caught up with them. They were down in a small, dark room with stone floors and a hearth. A rustic wooden table was sitting in one corner, while several pots and pans lined the walls. They all looked ancient, and Eliza couldn't blame Darcy for wanting to update it a little.

"Alright, let's move on," Mary said a moment later.

"There's more?" Aunt Anne said incredulously. They all laughed.

"Just one more room, I promise," Mary said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "You want to see this one."

They followed her up a short flight of steps and through several hallways they had been down before. Finally she led them into a huge, brightly sunny room that was windowed on two walls. There was some furniture arranged in the center of the room, but the main focus was the many paintings and pictures that were hung on the wall. Their shoes clapped on the parquet floor as Mary explained to them that every Darcy dating back to the early 17th century was represented on these walls. The first portrait of Fitzwilliam Darcy was dated 1601; he bore very little resemblance to the current Darcy, but he still had curly, blonde hair and dark green eyes. Indeed, almost every Darcy had blonde hair and green eyes, save for a few with blue eyes and one Darcy in the 1800s who had dark, almost black hair. Also pictured often were the many Lady Darcy's and their children; they were all aristocratic, noble-looking women. At one point Eliza's heart fell horribly as she looked at a portrait of one Lady Darcy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Caroline Bingley.

Mary talked on about certain Darcy's and their many contributions to society, but Eliza stopped listening as she finally found herself in front of the current Lord Darcy. There he was, in a family portrait with his father and sister. He was smiling, which surprised and pleased her. His handsome face became even more so when he smiled. She reluctantly turned her eyes to his sister; Georgia was stunning girl, here probably only about fifteen or sixteen. She, too, had blonde hair, but her eyes were a sparkling blue and had a warmth and kindness in them. Eliza suddenly felt on the verge of tears, but she took several deep breaths as her aunt and uncle made her way over to where she stood.

"Is that him, Eliza?" Aunt Anne asked as she looked at the photograph.

Eliza nodded.

"Do you know Mr. Darcy?" Mary asked in shock. Eliza turned to her.

"Only a little… he lived near me last summer," she explained. Mary smiled enthusiastically.

"I had no idea! It's a shame… you'll just miss him, he comes home tomorrow."

"He does?" Eliza asked, taken aback.

"Yes! I'll tell him you were here," Mary said.

"Oh! No, that's alright, please don't," Eliza said quickly, but Mary was still smiling. Eliza groaned silently, but turned at the touch of her aunt's hand upon her forearm.

"My, Eliza… he must be awfully handsome in person," Aunt Anne said to her.

"Oh… well… yes," Eliza said, again finding herself staring at his face. "Yes, he is."

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"Rose, have you postponed all my meetings for next week?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy."

"And you sent that file to Mr. Richards?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy."

"And I've already-?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. You've finished everything. Go on vacation."

Rose, Will's sweet, forty-something secretary, was looking at him with amusement. His desk was clean, everything done. But it was only Thursday, how could he be finished?

"Rose, are you sure-?"

"_Yes_, I am. Just go. Richard and I will be fine," she said, chuckling.

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to go now, make sure the house is in order…" he trailed off. There must be something… he checked around his desk one more time.

"Trust me, Mr. Darcy, you've done everything. Go," Rose said, taking his briefcase and setting it by the front door. Will sighed.

"Yes, I guess you're right. Thanks, Rose," he said, shrugging on his suit jacket.

"Have a good vacation, Mr. Darcy," she said as he went out the door. Once out on the sidewalk, Will paused, breathing the humid summer air. He was already all packed, all set… and he'd been hoping to get there before everyone else anyway. He sighed and started walking home, taking out his cell as he went. He dialed Georgia's number and then waited.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Georgia, it's me."

"Hello, big brother," she replied.

"Listen, I'm going to head for Pemberley tomorrow afternoon, make sure everything's in order," he said. He heard her growl.

"Why can't _I _go early?" she groused.

"Because, you have to stay for your last day of camp," he said. "I'm certainly paying enough for it, you'd better stay for the whole thing."

She groaned. "Fine, I'll ride with Caroline and Charlie on Saturday," she said.

"Good girl. I'll talk to you later," he said.

"Bye, Will."

The following morning, Will woke a little late and felt thoroughly disconcerted. It wasn't often he took vacation, and it was even less often that he left early for it. He shrugged to himself and started getting ready to leave. It was a good, long drive to Pemberley and he hoped to get there at least by three or four o'clock. He packed everything into his car, and then double and triple-checked the house. Reassured that he'd remembered everything and had locked every last door and window, he got into his car and drove off.

The drive started out relaxing and peaceful, but after awhile he started getting antsy. He stopped once for gas, and once for lunch, but otherwise it was just him and the radio. He was more than a little relieved to see the vibrant gardens and rolling hills of his estate, and he sped up a little as he drove down the path. There were a few gardeners out watering the considerable amount of flowers and plants, and a few waved in shock as he drove by. He drove past the front door and instead came to a stop by the garage, which was built apart from the house. To his surprise, he could see people sitting up on the porch that jutted out from the second floor, and he was even more surprised to see a young woman standing on the portico not very far from him. She had her back turned to him, and seemed to be staring off into the grounds. Startled to see people at his house, especially when Mary had said she wasn't expecting anyone today, he got out of the car and paused, leaning on the frame and trying to make out the faces of the people on the porch. When he couldn't, he shut the car door and began walking.

The sound of the car door, however, had gotten the attention of the young woman on the portico, who jumped and turned around. Her face made him stop dead in his tracks. No, it couldn't be…

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Around mid-afternoon, Mary stopped the tour and offered them tea. Anne and John gratefully accepted, but Eliza asked if she could instead walk outside. Mary obliged, and Eliza found her way out of the house and stepped outside. The air was clear and had a slight breeze as she wound her way around the house. The grounds stretched out in every direction; Eliza had no idea where to begin. She wandered over to a small stone portico on the eastern side of the house and gazed out. Darcy's home was strong and solid next to her, and she couldn't help but think of him. What would she have thought of him, she wondered, if she'd never met Wickham, if she'd never found out Darcy's role in breaking up Jane and Bingley… what would she have said that night? There was still the fact, she reminded herself, of his arrogance and disdainful manner. But seeing and being in his home, the house where he grew up, she found that she could hardly fault him for it. If this was the manner in which he grew up, and if people like Caroline Bingley were the kind of society he grew up in, then how could he _not_ be at least a little arrogant?

The sound of a car door slamming startled her; she jumped and whirled around. There, just a few feet away, was the subject of her thoughts, walking toward her. Eliza felt panic rise as he came closer, and then stopped dead. He stared at her for several seconds, the shock registering on his face.

"Eliza?"

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A/N: Ack! I apologize for wait. I just got back from a rather lovely vacation, and the first thing I did was finish this chapter!

I know, wasn't it awful of me to leave the chapter there? Please review! I go back to school in two weeks, so if you all review maybe I can get one or two chapters in before I go! The Pemberley part of my story will be way off-canon and much longer than in the book, so review!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	21. Nice to See You Again

Chapter 21 – _Nice to See You Again_

It felt like an eon passed before Will could regain any normal brain activity. Eliza was here… at his home… right in front of him! Was he hallucinating? Was she real? How in the world…

"Eliza?" he managed to stutter. She looked just as stunned as he; her face seemed frozen in a state of shock. He strode closer to her until they were barely three feet apart. He wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real, but then he noticed the look in her eyes: panic.

"Elizabeth?" he asked again.

"Will! I mean, Darcy… I mean, Mr. Darcy…" she stuttered, running a hand agitatedly through her hair. It was longer and curlier than the last time he'd seen her and for a moment he found himself watching it glint in the sun.

"What are you doing here?" he said a moment later, but then suddenly wished he hadn't. Eliza looked positively distraught.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy… my aunt and uncle brought me to England for my graduation gift and we've been running around meeting all of my aunt's old friends for the past week and she used to know your housekeeper Mary… they used to dance together or something, so we came here to see her… but she said you wouldn't be home until tomorrow so we thought it would be okay… but now you're here so we should go… we really should go…" she rambled on, her hazel eyes looking up at the porch.

"No, Elizabeth, please…" Will started; now that she was here, there was no way he was letting her go that quickly. He took a breath to try and gain some composure. "Stay. I arrived home early… Mary didn't even know I was coming today."

She still looked uncomfortable, and was looking at him with an evaluating expression.

"I'm really sorry," she said quietly. He pondered her for a brief moment; what was she thinking at this moment? Her apology seemed to carry too much weight for such a simple miscommunication as his arriving a day early. His thoughts flickered quickly to his letter… but no, he didn't have time to think of that right now.

"Don't be," he said quickly with a smile. He heard his voice shaking a bit. "Have you even looked around yet?"

"Mary took us around the house," she replied.

"But you haven't seen the grounds?"

"Well, no, but…"

"You must. You of all people will appreciate them," he said. She smiled a little, but couldn't quite seem to meet his eye. This was it, he thought, this was his chance. He wanted to start showing her around right away, but he was suddenly acutely aware of his disheveled appearance.

"Please, start looking around. I really should shower, I've been in the car since nine in the morning," he said with a chuckle. She smiled a little wider this time, and it took all of his willpower to walk away from her. He walked calmly to the front door, but once inside, he tore off at full speed. He ran to his room and immediately started the shower, only one thing on his mind: getting back outside to Eliza.

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Eliza's mind seemed numb with mortification. How could Will be here? _Dammit_, she thought, _I knew we shouldn't have come._ What must he be thinking? She thought she saw a glare coming through the startled look on his face, but she couldn't quite look at him fully. There he was, walking right toward her, the man who must hate her. The man whom she'd yelled at, told she hated, the man she had grievously misjudged. As he neared, though, she couldn't help but look at him. Despite herself, she felt a surge of thoroughly unexpected affection as she saw his rumpled jeans, wrinkled shirt, and flyaway hair. She felt tears prick at her eyes, but forced herself to stay composed.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, his eyes narrowed not in anger, but in disbelief. Her heart fell a little at the use of her full name.

"Will! I mean, Darcy… I mean, Mr. Darcy…" she spluttered, feeling foolish. Well, he certainly wouldn't like her anymore if she kept acting this way. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself. His steady gaze was unsettling.

"What are you doing here?" he asked; to her ears, the question sounded harsh, and she cringed. What must he think? Probably that she was purposefully throwing herself in front of him again, as some sort of cruel joke. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy… my aunt and uncle brought me to England for my graduation gift and we've been running around meeting all of my aunt's old friends for the past week and she used to know your housekeeper Mary… they used to dance together or something, so we came here to see her… but she said you wouldn't be home until tomorrow so we thought it would be okay… but now you're here so we should go… we really should go…" she stopped herself, realizing she was rambling. She just wanted to make him understand, but she also didn't want him to think that she didn't _want_ to see him… she groaned silently, wishing that he would go inside soon so that she could leave.

"No, Elizabeth, please…" he said. She looked up at him; his voice sounded gentle, amused even. Was that possible?

"Stay. I arrived home early… Mary didn't even know I was coming today," he said. She stared at him, trying to evaluate his expression. Was he being truthful? Did he _want _her to stay? But how could that be?

"I'm really sorry," she said quietly. _For so much_, she wanted to add, but stayed silent.

"Don't be," he said, his face creasing into a smile. She stared at him in wonder… he was smiling? Despite her shock, she found herself slightly more at ease under his smile.

"Have you even looked around yet?" he asked.

"Mary took us around the house," she said.

"But you haven't seen the grounds?"

She shook her head. "Well, no, but…"

"You must," he said. "You of all people will appreciate them." He smiled again. She smiled a little in return; it was the most she had seen him smile in so short a period. Her stomach, however, was still in knots, and she was itching to leave.

"Please, start looking around," he said. "I really should shower, I've been in the car since nine in the morning," he said with a laugh. She smiled fully this time, and for a brief moment as he walked away, she almost wanted to stay. But she just couldn't; despite his shockingly warm greeting, she just couldn't quite believe that he didn't hate her. And that made her more mortified than anything.

Eliza turned on her heel and walked quickly into the house. She strode up the stairs and made her way to the porch where her aunt and uncle were having tea. Mary was nowhere to be seen, for which Eliza was very grateful.

"There you are, Lizzie," Aunt Anne said. "We were wondering where you'd gotten to."

"Can we leave?" Eliza blurted out. She hated to make her aunt and uncle leave so abruptly, but for the sake of her sanity, it was necessary. They looked at her in alarm.

"Why?" Uncle John asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but can we please go?" she asked again, looking imploringly at her aunt. Her aunt took notice, and nodded graciously.

"Of course, Eliza, if you really want to go," Anne said, setting down her teacup and standing. "With my arthritis, I don't know if I could have walked around the grounds, anyway," she said, nudging her husband to stand. Uncle John still looked baffled, but he stood and made his way to the door. Just then Mary appeared in the hallway, and she let out a cry when she saw them making their way out.

"You're leaving so soon?" the housekeeper asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mary," Aunt Anne said, hugging her old friend. "We've forgotten the time."

"Well, if you're in the area all weekend, perhaps we can meet up again," Mary said, pecking Uncle John on the cheek. "It was very nice to meet you, Eliza."

"You, too," Eliza said as Mary hugged her.

"It was good to see you, old friend," Aunt Anne said as she and Mary hugged once more. Mary walked them downstairs and waited by the front door as Uncle John went to get the car. She chattered on to Aunt Anne about what they should still see in the area while they were here, and recommended a few restaurants. Eliza nervously kept checking the stairs, expecting to see Darcy come down them at any moment. To her great relief, Uncle John pulled up with the car a minute later, and she practically ran down the steps and along the path towards it. She had barely opened the door, however, when she heard it.

"Mr. Darcy! I didn't even know you were home, sir!"

Eliza froze as she heard footsteps crunch on the pebbles behind her. _I'm doomed_, she thought.

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Will showered as quickly as he could; somehow he had the feeling that he had to move quickly. He stood in front of the mirror for a moment, noticing the perceptible stubble on his face, but there was no time to shave: he had to get back downstairs.

He threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a button-down blue shirt. Sitting on his plush, four-poster bed, he jammed on a pair of loafers before checking his appearance in the mirror for a fleeting second. He left his luggage half-open and scattered as he dashed out of the room. Winding his way through the familiar halls, he found himself wondering what Eliza was thinking and if his letter had at all changed the way she thought about him. Outside just a few minutes ago, he had enjoyed the fleeting prospect that perhaps it had… but there was only one way to find out.

He hurried down the stairs to find Mary standing at the front door, waving. His stomach flipped when he reached the door to find Eliza and her aunt and uncle getting into a car a few yards down the drive.

"Mr. Darcy!" Mary cried from beside him. "I didn't even know you were home, sir!"

Will spared her a brief smile before leaping down the front steps. There was no way he was letting Eliza leave that quickly. She had her back to him, but she froze, halfway into the car, as he skidded to a halt behind her. The woman who was presumably her aunt turned around by the passenger door and stared at him in bewilderment.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Will said, but then groaned quietly. _What a stupid question_, he thought.

Eliza slowly turned around, shrugging sheepishly. "We didn't want to bother you," she said, looking him in the eye for the first time.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said with a smile as Eliza's uncle got out of the driver's seat, looking confused. He was a portly, middle-aged man with round glasses and creases around his mouth. Will took a deep breath and then strode forward, his hand outstretched.

"You must Elizabeth's uncle," he said, shaking hands with the elder man.

"John Gardiner," he replied, returning Will's smile as they shook hands. Will could feel Mr. Gardiner sizing him up, and flushed a little; what had Eliza told them?

"William Darcy," Will said as Eliza's aunt made her way around the vehicle. "And you must be Mrs. Gardiner," he said as he shook her hand as well. She was taller than her husband, with thick brown hair, twinkling brown eyes, and a long nose. She grinned at him as she took his hand.

"Call me Anne," she said.

"It's very good to meet you," Will said.

"And you, William. Your estate is just magnificent," Anne said.

"Please, call me Will. And thank you, but that compliment really belongs to Mary… I'm only here a few months a year," he said. It was then he realized that the car was still running.

"Here, Mr. Gardiner, let Mary take your car back to the garage. I insist that you stay and look around the grounds," Will said, stretching out his hand. Mr. Gardiner dazedly dropped the car keys into his hand, which Will promptly handed over to Mary. He gestured that they all walk over toward the lake, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner eagerly followed him, Eliza trailing behind.

"Do you fish at all, Mr. Gardiner?" Will asked as they strolled along the lake's edge.

"Every summer since I was five," Mr. Gardiner said with a smile.

"Well if you'll be in the area for a few days, you should come and fish in the lake. I have to admit I don't fish that much myself, but the lake is always stocked and you're welcome to come."

"Well, thank you, Will. That's very generous of you," Mr. Gardiner said, and then for some reason he looked back at Eliza, who was still trailing several feet behind them. Will chose to ignore this and kept walking.

"How long were you planning to stay in the area?" he asked.

"Until Monday," Anne replied.

"Oh, is that all?" Will said, and then bit his tongue. Anne's smile was a bit shrewd as she answered him.

"Well, we could delay going to Yorkshire. That's where my family is… and it's not as if I'm in any great hurry to see them," she said with a chuckle. Will smiled appreciatively as they approached a small gazebo.

"Oh, I'm sorry to be such a party pooper, but I really ought to sit down for a few minutes," Anne said, taking her husband's hand. "My limbs aren't exactly what they used to be," she went on, sitting down in the gazebo.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Will asked.

"No, no, I'm fine. You two go on ahead," she said with a smile. Will felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he turned around to find Eliza still standing several feet away from him by the lake. Her sleeveless purple top was ruffling slightly in the breeze as he gestured forward. She uncrossed her arms and followed, at his side this time.

"So, how are you liking England, Elizabeth?" he asked as they left the lake behind and started on one of the many walking paths. She smiled, seeming to ease a little.

"It's _Eliza_," she said pointedly. He laughed.

"Sorry… how are you liking England, Eliza?" he asked again.

"I absolutely love it," she said; her voice sounded more at ease, but she was still fiddling with the hem of her shirt in a nervous, fidgeting sort of way. Will was at a complete loss – this was not the confident Eliza he had known – until a thought struck him: she may think that he hated her now, after what had happened. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it, but viewing her nervous smile and clear discomfort, he had to think it must be true.

"Good… I knew you would," he said, and then glanced at her quickly, wondering if he had been too bold. She looked up at him in surprise, looking as if she was about to ask him something. But then she looked away and started talking about the gardens, and suddenly _he_ was following _her_. He strode along, content to listen to the sound of her voice, when an idea hit him. But would _that_ be too bold?

"Eliza," he said during a pause. She blushed and chuckled.

"Sorry, I know, I've been rambling," she said, turning toward him.

"No, I don't mind," he said, smiling. They continued walking, leaving the sunny gardens and heading under the shade of the trees.

"I'm expecting some guests tomorrow, some of whom you know," he started saying. She looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Charles Bingley and his sister Caroline?" he said, a bit timidly. She blushed again and looked down at the ground. No doubt she, too, was thinking back on the last time that name was mentioned between them. His thoughts flickered to his letter once again.

"Oh," was all she said.

"But there's also someone else, someone who would very much like to meet you," he went on. Eliza was still determinedly looking at the ground. "Would I be asking too much to introduce you to my sister, Georgia?"

Eliza looked up quickly, and then suddenly a huge grin broke out across her face. She nodded enthusiastically.

"I would like that very much," she said. He was perplexed by her sudden change in mood, but welcomed it all the same.

"Good… would you and your aunt and uncle like to come over for dinner tomorrow?" he asked, far too excited for her answer for his own good.

"We'd love to."

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Eliza had never been quite so uncomfortable or befuddled in her entire life. There he was, the man she had brutally rejected, humiliated, and horribly misjudged, smiling and making small talk as if nothing had ever happened. He seemed so… different, somehow. He had greeted her aunt and uncle warmly, cordially invited her uncle to fish on his lake, and had concernedly asked her aunt if she wanted something to drink. At first Eliza was so shocked she forgot that she was in an extremely awkward position. But when her aunt and uncle went to sit down and she had to go on alone with him, her stomach positively erupted into butterflies. _We shouldn't have come here_, she thought furiously. _This is just too embarrassing… for both of us!_ But then he looked over and smiled. What was wrong with him?

She walked alongside him, but kept a good foot between them. He seemed not nearly as uncomfortable as she was, and slowly, her bemusement overtook her anxiety. He didn't seem to hate her… not in the least. And she knew from Long Island that if he did hate her, he would not make any bones about showing it.

"So, how are you liking England, Elizabeth?" he said after a moment or two. She smiled, deciding to test his seemingly good will.

"It's _Eliza_," she said in faux exasperation, and to her delight, he laughed.

"Sorry… how are you liking England, Eliza?" he asked again.

"I absolutely love it," she said, her thoughts going back to the time when he'd told her he thought she would like England. That seemed like a very long time ago, now.

"Good… I knew you would," he said; she looked up at him in surprise. Did he remember what he'd said, too?

"Do you know I've never been in an English garden before?" she said, feeling the need to talk. She walked a little further ahead of him, unable to bear his steady, inscrutable gaze anymore. "Well, there's this woman who lives down the street from us at home who pretends to have this great English garden, but one time I found a huge stack of Burpee seed packs in her house… not exactly imported from England, is it?"

She walked along the brick path, chattering for no better reason other than talking made her feel a little more comfortable. Even if there was no possible way he still loved her, she wanted to seem herself.

"So finally my father just hired a landscaper, because it was the fifth year in a row my mother managed to kill everything in the backyard." She paused for a moment, looking out over the scenery. She'd never seen such green grass. The gardens were busy and colorful, the hills beyond them bare and peaceful. For a brief moment, she found herself wondering what it would be like to live here for the rest of her life.

"Eliza," Darcy said behind her. She turned around to face him, unable to keep herself from blushing.

"Sorry, I know, I've been rambling," she said with a sheepish smile.

"No, I don't mind," he said, leading her away from the gardens and onto a path shaded by tall, thick trees. It was a few moments before he spoke again.

"I'm expecting some guests tomorrow, some of whom you know," he said. She furrowed her brow, but half-expected what he was about to say. "Charles Bingley and his sister, Caroline," he went on. There was a brief but horrible moment in which she knew they were both thinking about the last time they had talked about Charles. A part of her wanted to mention the letter, but a stronger part told her to keep quiet.

"Oh," she managed to murmur.

"But there's also someone else, someone who would very much like to meet you," he said a second later. Eliza kept staring at the ground, her senses not fully collected.

"Would I be asking too much to introduce you to my sister, Georgia?" he asked. Eliza's head snapped up, and she turned to him with a grin. He couldn't possibly hate her, not if he was willing to introduce his sister to her. The revelation both pleased and perplexed her, but then she noticed he was still waiting for an answer. She nodded.

"I would like that very much," she said, and it was perfectly true. She had been eager to meet his sister for a very long time.

"Good… would you and your aunt and uncle like to come over for dinner tomorrow?" he asked then.

"We'd love to," she answered. She had no idea what her aunt had had planned, but was certain she could convince her out of it. The idea of seeing Charles and Caroline again didn't so much excite her, but the prospect of meeting Georgia Darcy was enough to overcome her reservations about seeing the Bingleys. She suddenly felt much more relaxed, and was able to listen to Darcy talk about the grounds and house without fidgeting at all. She still knew that he didn't love her anymore, but the fact that he didn't hate her was enough. Her mind, however, soon drifted to the mystery of his new demeanor. He smiled often as he walked her around, and several times it reached his eyes. His voice still held a slight tone of pride, and his speech was still overly verbose at times, but there was a definite and perceptible change. But why? It couldn't have been because of _her_; in fact, she was still amazed he had even spoken to her in the first place!

They walked on in silence for a while, Eliza every so often asking a question or pointing out a flower. They eventually wound their way back to the gazebo where her aunt and uncle were still sitting. Darcy sat down with them and repeated his invitation to have dinner tomorrow. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were thrilled, and accepted enthusiastically. Darcy again invited Mr. Gardiner to come fish during the day tomorrow, and Eliza's uncle smiled and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. Soon, however, the sun was setting, and Aunt Anne was reluctantly saying that they should be going. Darcy walked with them back to the main drive as Uncle John went to fetch the car.

"It was really nice to meet you, Will," Aunt Anne said as Uncle John came up with the car.

"And you, Mrs. Gardiner. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," Will said as he helped her into the passenger seat. Eliza suddenly felt very awkward again as he opened the door for her, too. She wasn't sure what to say, but luckily Will helped her.

"See you tomorrow, Eliza," he said quietly. She was close enough to see his stubble, and she suddenly couldn't help but smile.

"See you," she said, and then got into the car. He closed the door behind her and they took off, Aunt Anne twirling in her seat to wave goodbye.

"Elizabeth Bennet, I have never known you to lie," Aunt Anne said abruptly, looking at Eliza with mock-anger on her face.

"What?" Eliza cried. "When did I lie?"

"You said he was a snob!" Anne said, starting to laugh. Uncle John was chortling, too, as they drove out of the estate.

"Unless you met another William Darcy in Long Island, you were completely wrong about that young man," Uncle John said.

"I think I did," Eliza said as her aunt and uncle laughed. She sighed and leaned back in the car seat as her aunt and uncle talked on about Will and the estate. But all Eliza could think of was one thing: _He loved me…_

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A/N: Hooray! That was a super-fast update if I ever saw one. This chapter was a lot of fun but also pretty difficult to write, so review and let me know what you thought.

I'm hoping to update at least one more time before I go back to school, but maybe if you all review I'll be so excited I'll update twice! Let's see if we can make it to 300 on this one!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	22. Je Comprends

Chapter 22 – _Je Comprends_

Early the next day, Uncle John headed over to Pemberley to take Will up on his offer to fish on his lake. Eliza and Aunt Anne shopped and toured the town for a bit in the morning and early afternoon.

"You know, Lizzie, I haven't even had the chance to ask. How are you liking the trip?" Aunt Anne asked her as they strolled down the main street.

"I love it!" Eliza exclaimed. "I really can't thank you enough."

"It's our pleasure. You're like a daughter to us, Lizzie, you know that."

They walked in silence for a minute or two, Eliza's arm starting to hurt from her several shopping bags. Rather abruptly, her aunt halted and pulled Eliza toward a window.

"Oh, Lizzie, look at that dress," Aunt Anne said, pointing to a lovely navy blue gown inside the window display.

"I think we've gotten enough to fill another suitcase already, Aunt Anne," Eliza said with a smile. Her aunt clucked her tongue and shook her head.

"Nonsense. And if we have, we'll just buy another suitcase!" She started pulling Eliza into the shop. "Come on, let's buy you something nice for dinner tonight."

Eliza rolled her eyes, but allowed her aunt to lead her into the store. They bid hello to the elderly woman at the counter, as Aunt Anne immediately started pulling dresses out.

"How nice do you think we should look?" Eliza asked, suddenly very anxious. She had been very good about not thinking about dinner all day, but swiftly, a million thoughts and worries flowed over her.

"A nice summer dress should do, I think," her aunt said, draping a silk dress over her arm. "So you know these guests of Will's?"

Her heart rate returning to normal for the moment, Eliza chuckled at the thought that her aunt was calling Darcy 'Will.'

"Yes, a little," she said, avoiding her aunt's eye.

"Are they the ones that Jane was friends with last summer?"

What an understatement, Eliza thought. "Yeah, the Bingleys. They were the people she stayed with when she got her appendix out, remember?"

"Oh, is that them? Oh, it'll be very nice to finally meet them, then."

Her aunt fell silent and continued to look through the myriad of dresses. Eliza, meanwhile, was pondering tonight's dinner. What on Earth should she say to the Bingleys? She had been so preoccupied with Will and her relief that he didn't hate her that she hadn't given much thought to them. All she could hope was that her aunt and uncle, as well as Georgia, would be the center of attention so that she wouldn't have to spend too much time with them.

A few minutes later, Aunt Anne was dragging Eliza to the changing rooms. Eliza slipped behind the curtain with a few dresses while her aunt waited outside next to the mirror.

Just as she was struggling with the zipper on the first dress, she heard her aunt say, "You know, Lizzie, there's been something else I've been meaning to ask you."

Distracted by the bit of fabric caught in the zipper, Eliza absentmindedly said, "What's that?"

"Why _did_ you tell us that Will was a snob? Do you not like him?"

Finally able to zip the dress all the way up, Eliza paused for a moment before coming out of the curtain. She steered clear of her aunt's steady gaze and went straight to the mirror.

"I… I really don't know. When I knew him in Long Island he really was a snob," she said as she fiddled with the hem of the skirt. Her aunt stood and came to stand next to her.

"So you don't like him," Aunt Anne said.

"No, it's not that, he's just… he's just a lot different than the last time I saw him. I don't know _how_ I feel about him anymore," Eliza said truthfully.

"Well, he seems to like you, anyway," Aunt Anne said with a mischievous smile. "Quite a lot."

"I don't think so," Eliza said, unable to keep a hint of sadness out of her voice. Yes, Will had been perfectly civil yesterday, but just because he didn't hate her didn't mean he liked her, let alone loved her, anymore. She just hoped that she'd been able to make him see that _she_ certainly did not hate _him_ at all anymore.

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"Will, do you realize that there is a man out on your lake fishing?"

Will cringed as Caroline's shrill voice rang throughout the hall. He turned from his computer to find her standing in nothing but a bathing suit and towel at the doorway, her black hair sopping wet and dripping on the floor.

"Yes, I do. And try not to get the floor wet," he said, turning back around. He heard her growl and walked toward him.

"Who on Earth is he? He waved to me as I got into the pool," she said with disdain.

Will opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly Charles was also coming into the room, just in from a jog. Will sighed as he, too, started dripping on the rug.

"Will, do you that there's a-?" Charles started to ask, gesturing out the window towards the lake.

"Yes, I do," Will repeated. He took a deep breath and then turned fully around in his chair. Charles was looking at him with arched eyebrows, while Caroline stood huffing with her arms crossed.

"Alright, I know this is going to sound odd, but… that is Elizabeth Bennet's uncle," Will said. His pronouncement had the exact effect he thought it would; Caroline turned beet red while Charles became even paler.

"Elizabeth Bennet?" Caroline screeched through clenched teeth.

"Yes. She's in the area with her aunt and uncle and I happened to bump into her yesterday on my way home, so I invited them for dinner tonight," Will explained. Caroline had a vein pulsing in her right temple.

"How… why… why on Earth is she here?" Caroline trilled.

"Her aunt and uncle are taking her on a tour of England, and apparently her aunt used to know my housekeeper."

"Your housekeeper?" Caroline repeated, her brow arched in scorn.

"Yes… anyway, they should be coming for dinner in about two hours," Will said. "You might want to get dressed, Caroline."

Caroline opened her mouth, but then closed it again and marched out of the room. Charles had abandoned his stretching and had sat on the arm of the sofa.

"Eliza…" he mused. "So, it's just her and her aunt and uncle?"

Will sighed and nodded. He had been afraid Charles would react this way. It completely annulled all the things he had been telling himself about how Charles had not really loved Jane and had been over her a long time ago. He felt like he should say something now to Charles, but wasn't sure what. A few seconds later, however, Charles got up and left the room without another word. Will was just about to turn back to the computer when yet another person bounded into the room. This one, however, was an enjoyable distraction.

"Will, are we eating dinner early or late tonight?" Georgia asked as she fell onto the couch. She was still wearing the cotton shorts and oversized T-shirt she had worn on the drive to Pemberley, her brilliant blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Well, we have guests, so we'll eat around five," he said with a playful smile.

"Charlie and Caroline don't care when we eat," she said, wrinkling her nose. He laughed.

"Not them, we're going to have other guests."

"Already?" she said in a whining voice. "Can't we go one night without guests?"

He shrugged. "Alright, I can always call Elizabeth's hotel and tell her not to come."

His sister sat up straight at this. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth who?"

"Elizabeth Bennet. Remember me telling you about her? But if you don't want to meet her…"

"No! I want to meet her! You doofus, of course I want her to come over!" Georgia immediately said, hopping on the couch. "What is she doing in England?"

"She's on a trip with her aunt and uncle. I ran into them yesterday," Will explained again.

Georgia grinned and clapped her hands. "Oh, this is so exciting! You said she was so fantastic, I can't believe you didn't stay in contact with her."

"Well, you know… things happen," Will said softly, but his sister was paying no attention.

"I have to go shower! What should I wear? What do you think she'll be wearing?"

"I really don't know, Georgia. Why don't you practice the piano for now?" he suggested.

Georgia made a face. "Do I have to? I don't have much time to figure out what to wear!"

Will rolled his eyes. "I guess not, but you will have to practice at some point."

She left the room a few minutes later, still fretting about what to wear. Unable to comprehend the mystifying relationship between women and clothing, Will stood up and left the room as well. He headed outside and made his way down to the lake, where Mr. Gardiner was sitting contentedly, his line resting in the water.

"Will! Sit down," Mr. Gardiner said with a jovial smile.

"Thank you, sir," Will said, joining him on the grass.

Mr. Gardiner laughed. "God, don't call me sir. It makes me feel old."

Will smiled and nodded. "How goes the fishing?"

"Just perfect. I haven't had a chance to go all summer, so I really do thank you."

"My pleasure," Will said. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Gardiner?"

"My wife and I are realtors," Mr. Gardiner replied.

"Well, Manhattan is certainly a good place for that."

"Excellent… of course, now with the internet, our jobs aren't quite what they used to be. We're thinking of just packing it in soon."

"Retiring?"

"Yes… get a beach house somewhere, settle down for once."

"That sounds nice."

"Indeed," Mr. Gardiner said, nodding.

A few moments later, Will said, "It was very kind of you to take Eliza on this trip."

"That girl has been wanting to come to England since she was this high," Mr. Gardiner said, holding his hand up at his shoulders. "My wife and I try to come once every five years, to see her family."

"In Yorkshire," Will said, remembering.

"Yes… of course, Anne and her family don't get along very well, so we haven't been in about nine years by now." He chuckled, making Will feel much more at ease. "And now we've finally been able to take Lizzie along with us."

"She seems to be enjoying it."

"I should say so," Mr. Gardiner said with an enthusiastic nod.

"I told her she would like England, when we met last year," Will ventured.

"What a small world!" Mr. Gardiner said with a laugh. "To think that you met Eliza last year and her aunt turns out to be your housekeeper's old friend!"

"Yes, it is rather incredible," Will mused. _Not that I'm complaining_, he thought to himself. He then noticed Mr. Gardiner looking at him with an astute eye.

"She's a good girl, Eliza," the elder man said. "Smartest one of the bunch."

"I noticed," Will said, and to his surprise, Mr. Gardiner roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hard not to, isn't it?"

Will smiled, but chose not to say anything more about Eliza's family. He'd gotten in enough trouble the last time he'd open his mouth on the subject.

A moment later, he made to stand up. "Well, I just thought I'd let you know that your wife and Eliza will be here in two hours."

"Alright," Mr. Gardiner said, standing as well. "I guess I'd better go back to the hotel and change," he said with a smile, dusting off his muddy pants and shoes.

Will nodded and walked Mr. Gardiner back out to the main drive, where his rented car was parked. Saying goodbye for now, he turned to find Caroline staring at him out of a second story window. Striding back into his home, he suddenly hoped that Eliza was not nearly as nervous as he.

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"Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes, Lizzie, it looks great."

Eliza turned to look in the mirror once more before they left. Her aunt had bought her a knee-length voile dress with a low drape neckline and a pink and navy skirt. Eliza couldn't decide whether she loved it or if it was too much.

"Come on, dear, we really have to get going," Aunt Anne said one more time. Eliza nodded, ran a hand through her blown-out, curled under hair one last time, and then followed her aunt out the door. Uncle John was standing in the hallway, looking rather dapper in nice brown slacks and a sports jacket. Eliza tried to take deep breaths as she trailed a little behind her aunt and uncle as they made their way down to the lobby and then out to the car. Throughout the afternoon, her nerves had been slowly building, and she hated it. All she wanted was to walk into that house tonight with poise and confidence. She diverted her thoughts from Will and the Bingleys and instead focused on her anticipation at meeting Georgia Darcy. To her satisfaction, when the car pulled up at Pemberley, Eliza was feeling much more relaxed. All she had to do was focus on her new acquaintance and she was fine.

They were let into the house by the butler, who then led them to the parlor, which was situated just off of the dining room. Seated around the room on various couches and armchairs were Will, Charles Bingley, Caroline Bingley, and a young woman whom Eliza took to be Georgia. Indeed, they were barely through the door when she let out a shriek and hurried forward to meet them.

"Elizabeth's here!" the young woman said as she hopped over to them. Eliza smiled; her enthusiasm was infectious. She was a beautiful girl, with long, curly blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and a wide smile. There was a slight family resemblance about the nose, but other than that, the two siblings could not have been more different as Will stood and walked over as well.

"Eliza, I'd like you to meet my sister Georgia," he said. Eliza held out her hand, which Georgia took with both of hers and shook most heartily.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth," Georgia said.

"And you, too, Georgia. But please, call me Eliza," Eliza replied, glancing at Will for a second. He smiled for a brief moment, but then turned to greet her aunt and uncle.

"My brother has told me so much about you… I feel like we're friends already," Georgia said.

"Honestly, the way your brother talked about you, I was half-expecting to meet some sort of goddess," Eliza said. Georgia blushed and shook her head.

"I'm sure half of what he said isn't even true," Georgia said.

Eliza chuckled, sure that the girl was being modest. "Is that your piano?" she asked, pointing to the baby grand in the corner of the room.

"Yeah, Will got it for me last Christmas," Georgia replied.

"Your brother says you're an excellent player. Of course, he probably now thinks a monkey is a great player after listening to me play at your aunt's house."

"But he said you played so well!" Georgia said. They both looked over at Will, who suddenly looked cornered. Eliza couldn't but feel a little bit pleased at the thought that he'd said _anything_ about her to his sister.

"I said _quite_ well," Will said with a smile.

"Ah… now see, Georgia, _quite_ well is not as good as _so _well. But he still gives me far too much credit," Eliza said. Georgia giggled, but then seemed to take notice of Eliza's aunt and uncle, and made to introduce herself. Eliza walked away from the four of them and headed toward Charles and Caroline, who were sitting on the sofa. Caroline was dressed in black, as always, and glowered at her as she approached. Charles, however, leapt up from his seat and went to shake her hand.

"Eliza, it's so good to see you again," he said with a broad smile. Eliza stopped herself from scrutinizing his look and graciously returned his smile.

"You, too, Charles. You look good," she said, sitting down across from them.

"Yeah?" he asked, as if surprised.

"What a surprise it is to run into you again, Eliza," Caroline suddenly interjected, her voice cold as ice.

"Indeed… it's quite a small world, isn't it?" Eliza said.

"That it is," Charles said. "Are liking your trip?"

"Loving it, thanks," Eliza replied.

"How's your family?" Caroline said with a raised eyebrow. Charles suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable, and shifted in his seat.

"They're all very well, thank you," Eliza said.

"God, being at Netherfield Beach seems so long ago now, doesn't it Charles?" Caroline said, looking sideways at her brother. Eliza thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes as Charles nodded.

"Yes, it does," he said.

"How did school end up going, Charles?" Eliza asked.

"Very well," he said, his smile returning. "How about you?"

By this time, Georgia, Darcy, and Eliza's aunt and uncle were joining them. Eliza nodded.

"Well for me, too," she said to Charles.

"Eliza is going back to school in September for graduate study," Darcy cut in. Eliza smiled at him, surprised he had remembered.

"Really? What for?" Caroline asked with an icy stare.

"Art conservation," Eliza said.

"What an odd choice of study," Caroline said. Eliza took a deep breath.

"And you, Caroline? How are you filling up all your time?" she asked seriously. Caroline flushed; sneaking a glance at Darcy, Eliza saw him chortling into his glass of wine. She felt oddly triumphant.

"I should be _very_ busy _very_ soon," Caroline answered, looking significantly at Will. He stopped smiling immediately, looking slightly mortified.

Charles laughed shakily and started talking with Mr. Gardiner; Caroline, gratefully, fell silent, and the room's thick tension eased a bit.

"Eliza, you must tell me all about your sisters," Georgia said a moment later. She was seated next to Eliza in a large armchair. The others chatted on as Eliza turned to Georgia, who looked fresh and lovely in a sage green silk dress.

"Well, there's four of them, so there's a lot to tell," Eliza said.

"I want to hear all of it," Georgia said with an eager smile. "I've only ever had Will."

Eliza couldn't help but be taken with Georgia's earnest, humble nature, and soon found herself telling the girl all about growing up with four sisters. Georgia was equally delighted, shocked, and awed while Eliza spoke, and once Eliza was done, she asked Georgia to tell her about living with only brother.

"Oh, well he's completely overprotective, you know," Georgia began. "He's more like a parent, really… I mean, I never knew Mum, and then when Daddy died…"

She trailed off, her face clouding over. Eliza's heart sank, but she pretended not to notice anything. A moment later, though, Georgia brightened and started telling her a story about her only date, when Will burst into the restaurant and poured lobster bisque onto a poor boy name Jack. Eliza glanced over at their subject, and was surprised to find him looking over at her and Georgia with a light smile on his face. He noticed her looking and raised his eyebrows; she grinned and flashed a quick thumbs up.

After dinner, they all reconvened in the sitting room. Eliza felt somewhat exhausted, as dinner had mostly consisted of everyone politely nodding as Caroline droned on and on. Eliza had not retained a word the overgrown bat had said, and was relieved to notice that everyone else seemed just as shell-shocked as she was.

Georgia was quickly implored by everyone to go to the piano, and Eliza followed along to turn the pages for her. She would have liked to stay with the others in order to talk to Will, but she didn't think she could stomach Caroline for another moment.

"Have I mentioned how happy I am to finally meet you?" Georgia said as she began playing.

Eliza laughed. "Yes. And you'd better stop, before my head swells so big I can't stand upright."

Georgia chuckled. "It's just… usually my brother doesn't really connect with anyone when he goes places, it was just nice to hear him talking about you so much."

Eliza felt her face grow hot, and rather clumsily turned Georgia's music sheet. She sneaked a glance at Will, who was laughing and talking with her uncle. Georgia thankfully turned her full attention to her music, and Eliza enjoyed a few minutes listening to her superior playing. Unfortunately, her pleasure was cut short by Caroline, who started loudly calling her name and beckoning her.

"Eliza, how's your family?" she said with a smirk. Eliza rested on the arm of the sofa, and turned to Caroline with a smile.

"Just as well as the last time you asked, Caroline," she replied.

"How interesting your family made our stay in Long Island last summer, Eliza," Caroline went on. Aunt Ann and Uncle John looked puzzled, and both Will and Charles shifted in their seats. Eliza narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Yes, well, we do try our best to make everyone welcome. Of course, you really _upset_ quite a few people when you left so abruptly," she said, pointedly looking at Caroline and no one else. Caroline matched her narrowed eyes and added a smirk.

"How's your sister, Jane?" Caroline asked.

Eliza saw Charles picked up his wine glass and down it. She crossed her legs and smiled lightly.

"Just fine, thanks. She's been living in Manhattan for several months now," she said.

"She has?" Charles suddenly said. Eliza looked at him, startled to see him look so distressed. Or was it just her imagination?

"Yes, she was living with us, actually, for some time. She was promoted, you know," Aunt Ann cut in.

"Really?" Charles said. "How wonderful."

There was an awkward pause where Eliza determinedly kept her eyes away from Will. She couldn't help but wonder in that moment: if his letter had so affected _her_, had what she said that night made _him_ change his mind, too?

"And what about that friend of yours, George Wickham?" Caroline asked.

There was a loud, off-key clang from the piano. Will looked sharply at his sister, clearly upset. Eliza couldn't help herself; she openly glared at Caroline.

"How horrible of me," she said loudly. "I've left you alone at the piano, Georgia," she said, standing and marching to stand by Georgia's side, who had hesitantly kept playing. Her aunt had uneasily struck up a new conversation, and after a few seconds, the uncomfortable moment passed. Eliza risked a glance at Will; he was staring at her with a look of wonder on his face. She smiled and nodded and felt like, in that moment, they understood each other perfectly.

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_I am in such trouble_.

That was what Will was thinking as he looked at Eliza, standing next to his sister at the piano. He had just had the overwhelming feeling that, perhaps, Eliza had not only read his letter but believed it. She was looking at him as she'd never had before: with warmth and friendliness. He hadn't let himself believe it before now, but he was starting to hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn't hate him.

Caroline was, as usual, a headache and mood-killer. When she excused herself to go to the restroom, everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief. Charles even apologized to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner for Caroline taking up all of the conversation. They good-naturedly denied that she was a horror, but Will could tell they were disappointed when she returned a scant five minutes later. Another reason Will was suddenly passionately hating Caroline was the fact that Eliza used any excuse to stay away from her, and hence, away from the entire party. She and Georgia stayed safely by the piano, exchanging pleasant conversation, while Will and the others endured Caroline's neverending sermons. Will contributed when he had to, but otherwise contented himself with sneaking glances at Eliza and Georgia, who seemed to be getting on very well. He could not have been happier. Well, perhaps he _could_…

The night ended shortly after the sun went down. Charles and Caroline stayed inside as Will and Georgia walked Eliza and the Gardiners out.

"We had such a lovely time," Mrs. Gardiner said as they stepped out into the brisk summer night.

"Well, thank you so much for coming," Will said, shaking Mr. Gardiner's hand.

"It was so nice to meet you," Georgia piped in. She and Eliza exchanged a grin.

"And you. We really do wish we could stay in Derbyshire a little longer," Mr. Gardiner said wistfully.

"Then why don't you?" Georgia said excitedly. Will laid a hand on her arm, as a silent 'calm down,' but she jumped and turned to him with an eager look on her face.

"Will! Why don't we take them to the opera tomorrow?"

"Georgia, they have plans…" he said, but Georgia wasn't listening.

"We're flying to London for the matinee… we have our own box, there's plenty of room. Then we could go out for dinner, or shopping…" she said, clapping her hands.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind delaying our trip to Yorkshire…" Mrs. Gardiner said with a sly smile. "But only if your brother agrees. We wouldn't want to intrude."

Will took one look at Eliza; she smiled, and he gave in.

"We would love to have you join us."

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A/N: Woo! Sorry for the wait. School is crazy, as usual, but I have a fiction writing course that I really think is going to improve my writing tremendously.

We're over 300! That's very exciting. Just a quick note, though, to _nothingmatters_: I'm sincerely hoping that you were drunk, high, or some combination of the two when you wrote that review, because it is one of the silliest and pettiest insults I've ever received. I pity you, my friend.

So everyone review, and tomorrow: we go to the opera!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	23. At the Opera

Chapter 23 – _At the Opera_

Will woke up with a knot of excitement in his stomach. Of course, he couldn't deny that he was a little disappointed that he and Eliza would not be alone – indeed, that was looking more impossible by the day – but at least today there would be no Caroline, who was staying behind.

He and Georgia were meeting the Gardiners and Eliza at the small Derby airport at eleven o'clock, so he rolled out of bed at eight and set about making himself breakfast. Georgia, it seemed, was already up, for she had left her box of cereal out on the counter and the milk by the sink. Will shook his head and cleaned up; he was truly thrilled that Georgia and Eliza seemed to be getting along so well. However, a selfish part of him was worried that Eliza would pay so much attention to Georgia that she wouldn't get to know _him_ at all.

The morning passed quickly. Will got dressed in a navy suit with a light blue button-down shirt underneath which, at Georgia's advice, he left tie-less and open a few buttons. Georgia changed her outfit innumerable times; after the fifth dress, he lost count. She finally seemed to settle on a lavender knee-length dress and sandals, and at half past ten, they finally left the house, leaving behind a stewing and red-faced Caroline.

"Oh, she'll be in such a bad mood when we get back," Georgia said in the car.

"Is she ever in a _good_ mood?" Will asked. Georgia smiled and shook her head.

"No… and she probably never will be, as long as you keep rejecting her," she said with a giggle.

"What, would you rather have Caroline than Anne?" Will said. Georgia groaned.

"_No_… I'd rather have Eliza," she said simply. Will bit his tongue and looked out the window.

"Georgia…" he said softly.

"What?" she said sharply. "Oh, come on, Will, if you were going to marry Anne you would have done it by now. And you like Eliza, I know you do," she said. Will rested his elbow on the window, marveling at how easily his sister could see through him.

"Georgia…" he repeated, at a loss for words.

"What?" she said again. He looked over at her, his hands suddenly jittery as they approached the airport. He just shrugged halfheartedly, unable to put what he was thinking into words. She sighed huffily, but they were soon pulling up alongside the jet, and she marched out without another word.

The Gardiners and Eliza were standing awkwardly beside the jet. Georgia bounced over to say hello while Will went to confer with the pilot. A few minutes later, the stairs were being lowered and they all climbed aboard. Georgia, it seemed, purposely put herself closer to the Gardiners, so that Will had no choice but to sit next to Eliza. She smiled a little at him as he sat down; she was wearing a turquoise blue halter dress, and her hair lay straight, coming down to just beyond her shoulders. He nodded to her, feeling oddly at ease.

"Thank you again for inviting us to come," she said with a brilliant smile.

"Please, don't. We're really very happy to have you," he replied. She nodded and straightened to face forward.

He felt the need to say something, and so blurted, "The Bingleys were happy to see you again." He was reassured when she chuckled and leaned her head back in the chair.

"I was, too," she said a few moments later, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. "Caroline seems to be expecting your proposal any day now."

They both laughed; Will was relieved that she thought Caroline just as ridiculous as he did.

"Yeah… although I have to admit I'm a little scared she might buy a ring, a dress, book a church, drug me, and marry me without my knowledge," he said.

Eliza laughed… it was just as musical and wonderful as he had ever remembered it.

"I wouldn't put it past her," she said. He looked at her in alarm.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said, nodding gravely before bursting out into chuckles. "Don't worry, I'll look out for you."

"Yeah?" he said, pushing all thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Sure… in fact, maybe I should just have her committed to a mental asylum _now_. I mean, they'd take her without question, she _is_ seriously unhinged."

He laughed, but was secretly marveling; so far, he had not heard a word of sarcasm come out of her mouth. In Long Island, nearly all of her conversation had been dripping with disdain. He felt a small amount of triumph at this revelation.

"What about Anne?" Eliza said a moment later, her smile gone.

Will furrowed his brow. "Your aunt?" he asked. "No offense, but she's not really my type."

She chuckled, but shook her head. "No, Anne Lundi. I thought… well, I thought you were… involved with her."

Will stared at her for several seconds before answering. Was she _envious_? No, no, definitely not… it was just his imagination.

"No… no," he repeated. She looked puzzled for a moment, but then seemed to relax. There was an awkward pause, something that they had not experienced in a long time. She then turned to him with a wistful smile.

"How do you like your Mini?"

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Eliza hardly wanted to get off the plane; she had never been on a private jet before. It was completely luxurious, with leather seats, cashmere pillows, and a never-ending supply of alcoholic beverages. Of course, she had to admit that there was another reason she didn't want to leave the plane: she was actually having a very good time with Will. The change she saw in him never failed to astonish her, and he really was very good company. She wondered if it was at all possible that they could be friends.

"We seem to have enough time," Aunt Anne said as they walked toward Convent Garden.

"Have you ever been here before?" Georgia asked Eliza as she came up beside her and linked her arm in Eliza's.

"No, never," Eliza answered.

"It is absolutely one of my favorite places in the whole world," Georgia said with a giddy smile. "Will used to bring me here all the time as a little kid. And now that he's living in London, he'll have to start doing that again, right, Will?" she said, looking back at her brother.

"Whatever you say, Georgia," he replied.

They walked into the magnificent white building at exactly quarter past two; the performance did not start until three. An usher leapt at the sight of Will and immediately took them up the stairs and into a hallway consisting of nothing but smooth wooden doors.

"Number 95, Lord Darcy," the usher said with a little bow. Will thanked him and then held the door open as everyone filed in.

Eliza couldn't help but gasp when she entered the box. The opera house was even more beautiful inside, with lush crimson curtains and a golden ceiling.

"See what I mean?" Georgia whispered as Eliza gazed around. A shriek jerked her out of her reverie; she turned to see Georgia talking happily with a girl in the next box. Her aunt and uncle put down their things and then left to visit the restroom. The seats were arranged in a sort of straight row facing forward, so that each chair was angled right behind the one in front of it. Will gestured to the last two chairs, and Eliza sat, carefully arranged her turquoise dress around her knees. She took out her program and then turned slightly in the seat to face Will.

"So… what exactly is this about?" she inquired. As much as she loved opera, she had never been very adept at following the plots, especially when they were not sung in English.

Will chuckled softly. "Alright… Ramiro loves Arminda," he started, pointing to the pictures of the singers as he spoke. "The mayor wants to hook up with his garden maid, but the maid is actually a noblewoman who is in love with Count Belfiore, who had stabbed her about a year earlier."

Eliza stared at him, mouth agape. "I'm confused already."

He laughed and patted her on the shoulder. The warmth of his hand startled her and she imagined that he let his fingers stay a little longer on her shoulder than was needed. But he withdrew his hand a moment later and looked back at the program.

"Just listen to the music. Trust me, that's all you can really do," he said. She nodded and pretended to become immersed in her program.

"Crazy Mozart," she murmured under her breath.

"You don't like him?" Will said. She turned back to look at him.

"No, I love him… but these plots! I mean, I know he didn't actually write the libretto or anything, but still…"

"Do you go to the opera often?" he asked.

She shrugged. "As much as I can. Honestly, I prefer the ballet, but sometimes opera can just make you feel…" she made a silly gesture with her arms, unable to put the rest of the sentence into words.

"I know," he said with a significant nod.

She sighed and turned back around, only to find Georgia giggling and whispering with the girl in the next box as both of them gave she and Will significant looks. Eliza flushed and hastily looked to the side, out into the theatre. People were continually filing into the orchestra section; she saw a few, like her, craning their necks to stare at the ceiling or walls. She returned her attention to the stage – she had never had such excellent seats. She suddenly felt acutely awkward; she wanted to talk to Will, but was unsure of what sort of conversation to strike up next.

"How long have you had this box?" she asked a minute later, but then cringed. _How blasé_, she thought.

"Decades," Will answered. "My mother was fond of the opera. It was one of the first gifts my father ever gave to her."

"Smooth move," she said with a smile. She was glad when he broke into laughter a second later.

"He liked to think so."

"What was your mother's favorite opera?" she asked next.

"La Boheme," he said with a small, pensive smile. "Apparently she saw it dozens of times."

"Apparently?" Eliza inquired, but then bit her tongue. A fleeting wave of sorrow drifted across his face, but then he looked up and met her eye.

"She died shortly after Georgia was born," he replied.

"Oh," she mused, her heart falling. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"I know," he said reassuringly. She found herself tempted to place her hand on top of his, which was mere inches away, resting on his knee. But she checked herself, and they soon fell into another silence.

"Father wanted Georgia and I to have the box," Will said a few seconds later. "But he never came back, after she died."

She nodded slowly, gazing at him. Suddenly, all her guilt about having misjudged him before, having let her prejudice blind her, washed over her anew. Her insides twisted as he sighed.

"You know, it's funny," he said with a dry chuckle. "My parents married each other just for money, but they really loved each other in the end."

She smiled a little, but she suddenly felt a bit panicked. What did that mean? Did it mean he would still consider marrying Anne Lundi, because he thought he might grow to love her? He couldn't possibly! A deep, selfish part of her screamed that no, he had loved _me_! But then, again, she checked herself. She had no right to claim him, to deny any other woman of having him. He had opened himself to her once, and would probably never do so again, to her or any other woman. She didn't deserve him… _but neither does Anne Gumby_, she thought vehemently.

"Eliza? Are you alright?"

She jerked her head toward Will, who was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She looked down to find her program crushed in her clenched fist. She took a deep breath and tried to appear normal.

"I'm fine," she said. Moments later, the Gardiners rejoined them, and Georgia took her seat, as well. They all talked as a group about the opera house, the lobby outside, the magnificent box, et cetera. It felt like only seconds later that the lights were dimming and the orchestra began to play.

Eliza quickly found herself lost in the glorious music and stunning costumes. She tried to follow Will's advice and just listen to the music, but every once in a while she snuck a peek at the subtitles, which were flashing on little monitors alongside their seats. By the second act, however, she realized that she completely and utterly lost. This guy loved this girl, but she really wasn't that girl, she was really another, and she was in love with this other man… She leaned back a little in her seat and turned her head slightly to Will; he noticed and leaned forward.

"I have no idea what's going on," she whispered. He laughed softly in her ear.

"Honestly, neither do I," he whispered back.

"Really?" she said with a smile, turning her head to face him. She was surprised to find herself sheer centimeters away from his face. He didn't answer, and instead they just looked at each other for what felt like forever. It was too dark to see his face, but his lips were right there, so close to hers. In the back of her mind, she knew she wouldn't have minded if he had kissed her right then and there, but he pulled away and settled back into his chair. She turned back around and tried to focus on the stage, but by now she was so completely bewildered that she couldn't concentrate. Instead, she could only focus on her own thoughts.

_Face it: he loved you once… but he never will again._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Will did not pay any attention whatsoever to the last half hour of the opera. He had long since given up on following the plot, but had been at least listening to the music. And then Eliza had turned around… he had never been so close to her before. She hadn't jerked away, as he had expected her to. Instead she had gazed calmly at him, not even bothering to put more than five centimeters between them. Admittedly, he had come very close to kissing her, but he hadn't figured her out yet. So he pulled away, and she turned back around.

He didn't watch any of the rest of the opera; he was too busy staring at Eliza's shoulder, which was almost glistening in the light coming from the stage. What was she thinking? he wondered. She certainly didn't seem to hate him as she once did. But was she starting to _like_ him? It seemed, if he dared to believe it, possible. Not romantically, of course, but she seemed willing to be friends. That was it, he decided, he was just going to have to come out and _ask_ her. Ask her if she had read the letter, if she'd believed it, if she was open to being friends.

"That was just wonderful," Mrs. Gardiner said over the applause as the lights came back on. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Yes… I had no idea what was going on, of course, but I liked it all the same," Mr. Gardiner chimed in. Everyone laughed as they again nodded in agreement.

Will looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly six o'clock.

"Shall we go to dinner?" he asked everyone. They all nodded enthusiastically and he led the way out of the theatre. Georgia trotted alongside him, chatting on about the Richardsons, who had been sitting in the box next to them. He spoke when he had to, but he couldn't help but look behind him every once in awhile at Eliza; she was walking in between the Gardiners, but looked a little dazed. Once, she looked up and caught his eye. She smiled and he had the fleeting urge to ask her for her number.

They entered the restaurant and were seated right away; for a moment Will was nervous that Eliza might think this snobbish, but then he heard her say, "Wow, how fast was that?" He smiled to himself and held the chair out for her; as she took her seat, her hand brushed against his. His fingers felt tingly for a moment, but then he shook the feeling away. It was silly to get excited about something so trivial.

Dinner was extremely enjoyable. Will was grateful that his attention was not entirely focused on Eliza, and the conversation between the five of them was easy and relaxed, although he couldn't help but feel at the end that he wished the Gardiners were Eliza's parents instead of the Bennets.

After dessert and coffee, Georgia and the Gardiners all got up to use the restroom, leaving Will and Eliza alone at the table. There was a single seat in between them, and Will painfully noticed the sudden romantic atmosphere of the restaurant, with its candlelit tables and rose centerpieces. He realized that this may be his only chance to talk to her alone, and so seized it. He took up the seat between them so that, once again, they were barely six inches away from one another.

"Eliza, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you," he started. Her eyes were glimmering in the candlelight as she leaned toward him.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well…"

"William Darcy!" a loud voice suddenly boomed behind him. Will cursed under his breath, but turned around. He found Mark Cleaver standing behind his chair; Mark was an attorney at a firm that often competed with Will's. He was a large, red-faced man with a bushy mustache, and he clapped Will hard on the back as Will stood to shake his hand.

"Mark, how are you?" Will said, forcing his voice into politeness. "Doing alright after we slaughtered you last month in court?"

Mark laughed. "That you did… but hell, I still got paid, so who cares?"

Will laughed civilly, racking his brain for a way out.

"And who's this beautiful young woman?" Mark asked, gesturing to Eliza. Will turned to her, as well; she was standing and shaking Mark's hand.

"This is Elizabeth Bennet," he said to Mark. "Mark Cleaver," he then added to Eliza, who nodded graciously.

"Pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth," Mark said.

"And you, Mr. Cleaver," Eliza replied. Will was secretly pleased that she did not add 'but call me Eliza'.

"Probably boasting about all your wins lately to Elizabeth here, eh, Darcy?" Mark went on. "Don't let him fool you… he's a total mouse in court."

"Somehow I doubt that," Eliza said, with a wink to Will.

"Really?" Mark boomed. "You've hoodwinked her good, Darcy. What's this I hear about you lowering your fees? Losing clients?"

Both Eliza and Mark looked surprised; Mark with vengeful delight, Eliza with a thoughtful gaze.

"Not at all," Will replied. "Just making things more accessible. In fact, last I heard, we had just signed on a few of _your_ former clients, Mark."

Eliza laughed softly as Mark grew even redder. Will winked back at her as Mark's mustache bristled.

"Yes, well… no matter!" Mark went on. He then straightened and puffed out his chest. "Well, nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Darcy… see you in court."

With that he waddled away, and Will turned to Eliza to find her laughing out loud, her head tilted back.

"He looks like a walrus!" she said, placing a hand on his upper arm to balance herself. He laughed as well.

"He really does," he said as her laughter died down. She took a deep breath and then suddenly seemed to notice that her hand still rested on his arm. She took it off immediately and let it fall by her side.

"So…" she said, her voice softer. "You were going to ask me something?"

"Ah, yes, I was," he said, but then saw the Gardiners and Georgia heading back to the table. Eliza turned her head and saw them as well. Her shoulders seemed to fall a little, and he couldn't help but feel very disappointed.

"Some other time," he said quietly. She nodded and smiled a little as the others joined them.

"Will!" Georgia cried as she approached the table. "Mrs. Gardiner said that she would let me take them shopping tomorrow in Derby!"

"Is that so?" he said.

"Aunt Anne, you'll do anything but go to your family's house, won't you?" Eliza said with a laugh.

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "Yes, actually."

"Eliza, I am so excited to show you… I could not let you leave Derby without going to Sadler Gate," Georgia said, coming over and taking Eliza's hands in her own. "You want to come, Will?" she added.

Will looked at Eliza, who nodded encouragingly. "Of course I would," he said.

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A/N: There! Not such a terrible stretch between updates… I apologize, however, to those who read the last author's note and thought I would update sooner. I meant tomorrow in the story, not literally tomorrow.

Anyway, I know this is going to sound sad, but we really only have a few more chapters left. Next chapter is their last day in Derbyshire, which means we will then have the crisis and the resolve. The story should end somewhere around Chapter 30-31ish, which means about eight more chapters. I do and yet don't want the end to come… sigh.

Alright, so PLEASE review! Especially now that I'm suddenly depressed about having so little of the story left… review!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	24. The Last Day

Chapter 24 - _The Last Day_

Eliza felt disappointed all night, and the feeling lingered when she woke the next morning. She cursed Mark Cleaver for coming at the exact moment that Will was going to ask her something. It could have been important! And it had been one of the very few moments they had alone. She sighed as she showered and got dressed for the day. Today wasn't looking any more promising… she wondered what he'd been about to ask her.

The sky was cloudy but didn't seem to threaten rain. She wondered with a chuckle whether they were ever going to get to Yorkshire. She certainly didn't mind not going; not just because she was having such a good time with the Darcys, but because her aunt's family was rather loud, rude, and talked of nothing but sports. With a pang, Eliza thought that she and her aunt were rather alike: stuck in a family with whom they had nothing in common.

After a small breakfast at the hotel, Eliza and the Gardiners drove to Darcy's estate. Mary answered the door and told them that Will was in the library. Aunt Anne and Uncle John suspiciously lingered behind to speak with Mary as Eliza boldly went forward to find Will. Mary had directed her up the stairs to the first door on the left, and Eliza knocked lightly before entering, slightly nervous. Stepping into the room, however, she was struck speechless; the library was an enormous, high-ceilinged room with plush Oriental rugs and pristine white walls. Books stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction, complete with ladders and spiral staircases. Will sat in a leather armchair in the middle of the room, his legs drawn up and resting on the coffee table. She smiled at the sight; it was the most relaxed she had ever seen him.

"Good morning," she ventured. He jumped a little in his seat, losing his grip on the book, which fell to the floor. She couldn't help but chuckle as he scrambled to pick it up.

"Eliza! You startled me," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, afraid he was upset. But then he smiled and stood up, placing the book on the coffee table.

"Don't be," he said. "You like it?" he asked, spreading his arms to gesture around the room. She nodded enthusiastically.

"It's beautiful," she enthused.

"Thank you. Maybe it's a little selfish of me, but I usually don't let Mary show it to visitors on the tours," he said.

"Not at all," she said, her eyes still lingering on the books. When her eyes caught his again, he was gazing at her with a thoughtful look.

"Eliza… there _was _something I had wanted to ask you yesterday," he said.

Eliza instantly forgot about the books. She walked a little closer to him.

"Right," she managed to say.

"Eliza! There you are!"

Both Will and Eliza audibly groaned as Georgia bounced into the room. Eliza recovered more quickly and turned to Georgia with a smile.

"Hey, Georgia," she said.

Georgia was biting her lip. "Well, I made the mistake of telling Caroline where we were going today, and she insists on coming. Is that alright?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

Eliza shrugged, and Will muttered, "Like it would matter if it wasn't?"

Georgia sighed. "I know, but –"

"There you went, Georgia, I turn around for one second and you're gone."

All three groaned this time as Caroline slunk into the room, wearing an uncomfortably short black dress and sandals, her hair down for a change.

"Ah, Elizabeth, how nice to see you're still here," Caroline went on, slithering up next to Georgia. Eliza put on her best fake smile.

"Yep, still here," she said.

"Well, I've managed to convince Charles to come as well so you shouldn't be too bored, Will," Caroline said to Will, who had left his seat and came to stand next to Eliza.

"Great," he said; Eliza took note that his voice suddenly returned to the slow, haughty one she had known last summer, and marveled at it.

"Well, then… shall we?" Will said, leading them out of the room. After some subtle complaining from his sister, Caroline, Charles and Georgia went in one car, while Will drove Eliza and the Gardiners. The ride was relatively short, and by noon they were parked and walking around the market. It was a fun, open-air market with a huge assortment of quirky shops. The group wandered around together for awhile after a quick lunch, but eventually Eliza's aunt and uncle drifted off on their own. Caroline stuck to Georgia's side so much that Eliza could never quite relax. Finally she just fell out of step with the girls and walked with Will and Charles.

"How's work going?" she asked both of them.

"Good… great," they answered together. She chuckled.

"I bet you both missed home while you were in New York," she went on.

They both shrugged half-heartedly.

"Or maybe not," she said. Charles chortled.

"It's nice to be back in England," he said. "But I, at least, loved New York. Actually I miss it sometimes," he said, smiling sadly at Eliza. She looked at him quizzically. What _exactly_ did he miss about New York?

"I do, too," Will piped up, as they followed Georgia and Caroline into a music shop. They had barely stepped foot in the store before both Georgia and Caroline were excitedly calling to Will. He sighed but went over to them by the left wall. Charles and Eliza wandered through the aisles together in silence for a bit before Charles spoke up.

"So, Jane got promoted?" he asked, his eyes down on the CDs.

"Yeah, a little over a year ago," Eliza replied slowly. "She's been living in Manhattan for about a year."

"Good for her… I confess, Eliza, I've always felt bad about the way we left Netherfield," he said softly, looking quickly over his shoulder at Caroline, as if making sure she couldn't hear.

"Well… it was rather unexpected," Eliza said.

"I know, I know… I've felt guilty about it ever since." His affable face fell; Eliza snuck a glance over at the left wall, too, but she concentrated on Will. It was _so_ obvious that Charles was still hung up on Jane; sure he had changed in most ways, but had Will realized how completely wrong and presumptuous he had been about Jane? Did he even notice had heartbroken his friend still was? And if he were given the chance to make it right, would he? She found herself desperately hoping he would… she wanted to believe that he had had a change of heart there, too.

"Don't worry about it," Eliza finally responded. "I'll tell Jane you said hi."

His big blue eyes lit up a little. "Would you?"

"Sure… she'll be happy to hear it."

* * *

_What are they talking about over there?_ Will narrowed his eyes as he watched Charlie and Eliza talking quietly to each other by the Jazz section. Caroline and Georgia were thrusting an antique copy of an opera record that Will had been searching for years for, but he couldn't concentrate. Charles' shoulders were slumped, and Eliza was smiling at him in a sad, pitying sort of way. Were they talking about Jane? He did _not_ want Jane to come up in any conversation. It was too painful for him, and he was quickly losing hope of ever being able to tell Eliza just how much he regretted what he had done. Besides, he was already formulating a plan to get Charles to go back to New York, who had been avoiding the city for a year now. If all succeeded, and Charles and Jane got together, hopefully he could redeem himself somewhat in Eliza's eyes.

"Will, why aren't you excited? You've been looking for this forever!" Georgia screeched into his ear. He tore his eyes away from Eliza and looked down.

"Of course I am!" he affected his voice into excitement.

"Remember when we saw that opera together, Will?" Caroline purred, placing her hand on his wrist. He shook her claw away and turned to Georgia.

"Good eye, Georgia," he said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, but then leaned in close to him. "Please get me away from her," she whispered, jerking her head toward Caroline. He took pity on his sister; the whole point of the day was so that she could spend time with Eliza, and she had barely spoken two words to her all day. He nodded and winked.

"OK," he whispered back, and then turned to Caroline.

"I remember that like it was yesterday," he said, dropping his voice a little. "_La Boheme._ It was raining, wasn't it?"

"Yes! It was!" Caroline said, her eyes growing huge and excited. Will gritted his teeth as he heard Georgia scamper away.

"It's one of the most romantic operas in the world you know," he said. Caroline's mouth fell open and she didn't respond for several moments.

"Yes, I know," she finally breathed. He heard the distant sounds of Georgia and Eliza's mixed laughter.

"When Rodolfo cries out Mimi's name at the end…" he mused; Caroline was practically groping him by now.

"Yes! When she's… leaving on the train," she said. Will groaned inwardly.

"Well, I was thinking of the part where she dies, but alright," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh! Right," Caroline said breathily, and then suddenly he felt it: her tongue in his ear.

"Erm, are we interrupting something?"

Will gasped and leapt away from Caroline. Georgia, Charles, and Eliza were staring at the two of them, each with a different expression: Eliza's was one of mild confusion and major disgust.

"No! Not at all," he said quickly, feeling his face burn. Georgia looked amused, Charles looked alarmed, and Caroline was still eyeing Will with animalistic lust. He coughed awkwardly and looked straight at Georgia.

"I'll just go buy this," he said and then walked quickly away from all of them. He purchased the record quickly and then met them outside the store. The awkward atmosphere seemed to pass as Georgia showed him what she had bought with Eliza.

"_The Joshua Tree_, _Aladdin Sane_, _Led Zeppelin Two_, and _Paranoid_," Georgia recited.

"Contrary to popular belief, Black Sabbath is _not_ just for Satanic nutjobs. I just discovered this last year, so I'm imparting my wisdom onto your sister," Eliza followed up.

Will laughed. "Zeppelin Two? Why not Four?" he asked.

Eliza groaned in faux-exasperation. "I know everyone's obsessed with Four, but I happen to prefer Two. It's really underrated." She paused. "What did you buy, Will?"

"La Boheme. I've been looking for this version for ages," he replied.

"It's the most romantic opera in the world, you know," Caroline suddenly interjected, slithering in between him and Eliza. "And Will and I saw it together."

"Is that so?" Eliza said with a noticeable edge to her voice.

"Yes," Will said, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice. "You were with Matt Seymour at the time, remember? Anne and I went with you two."

Caroline's face immediately fell. He could see Eliza laughing silently over Caroline's shoulder; he had made her laugh! He felt a small sense of accomplishment.

"Ah, yes… how is Anne, anyway?" Caroline said, recovering quickly. "When _are_ you two announcing your engagement?" she asked, raising her eyebrow coldly. Eliza had stopped laughing, and Will couldn't help but feel a surging anger as Caroline smiled.

"Anne and I aren't together," he said quietly, feeling the urge to push Caroline in the way of an oncoming delivery truck.

"Really? That's what everybody says… especially your aunt. And we all know you always do whatever your aunt says!" Caroline continued in her sickeningly false sweet voice.

"Oh, look at those adorable puppies!" Georgia suddenly said loudly, and, clasping Caroline's wrist, dragged her away to a store across the lane. Charles coughed awkwardly and then quickly went over to join his sister. Eliza had walked a little away from Will and was gazing into the window of a nearby store. He went and stood at her side, but wasn't sure what to say.

"God, that Caroline will say anything, won't she?" Eliza finally said, turning to him with a smile.

"What? Oh, yeah… she's pretty unflappable," he responded dejectedly.

"I mean, let's be honest… you'd never marry her _or_ Anne… would you?" she said, throwing him off guard. What did she mean by it? Of course he would never marry Anne… if he thought there was any chance with Eliza. But she couldn't… she couldn't possibly be… she couldn't be saying there _might_ be a chance… was she?

He was still staring at her with mouth agape when the other re-joined them, including the Gardiners. His heart fell as Eliza looked away from him with a frown.

"Look who we found!" Georgia said with a smile. She seemed to take note of Will's unhappy temper and apologized with her bright eyes. He shrugged and shook his head, and soon the group was heading back toward the parking lot. He and Georgia fell behind as the rest of the group chatted.

"I'm sorry, Will, I didn't think you two were…" Georgia whispered.

"No, it was nothing," he whispered back. "Forget it."

Again they split between the two cars, although Georgia did not put up a fight this time about having to go with the Bingleys. She and Eliza hugged as they parted, and she waved enthusiastically as they drove away. As the Gardiners, Eliza, and Will set off toward their hotel, he couldn't help but feel something he hadn't in a long time: an eagerness to see Eliza gone.

* * *

As Will drove them to the hotel, Eliza found herself hoping that they would finally leave for Yorkshire tomorrow. She'd had fun here in Derby with Georgia, and even with Will, but she realized that no matter how much fun they had, there was still the fact that she didn't know whether Will had forgiven her or not. Moreover, she still wasn't sure whether she had forgiven him for what he had done to Jane. And seeing as neither of them could buck up the courage to talk about it, they could never really have any sort of friendship. She did feel sorry, for she felt like if she could just be sure that he didn't hate her and that he was sorry for what he had done, they really could be friends.

The hotel finally came into sight, and Will parked the car and walked them inside. The Gardiners, oblivious to any sort of tensions between Will and Eliza, invited him for a drink. He accepted, of course; _curse his perfect manners_, Eliza thought. As she dropped her purse and purchases onto the front table, though, she noticed that their phone was blinking.

"I think there's a message on our phone," Eliza said, throwing off her shoes.

"Well, check it then," Aunt Anne said.

Eliza picked up the phone and pushed the blinking read button. After a long-winded automated message, it finally said,

"You have a message from" – beep – "Jane Bennet" said her sister's voice. Was her voice wavering or was that just the connection?

"Hi, Lizzie, it's me. I hope you're still in Derby and that you haven't gone to Yorkshire yet. I… I have some bad news."

Eliza's heart stopped.

"Lydia never came home last night. Daddy was about to call the police, but then she called – she's run away. With that George Wickham."

Eliza gasped; her eyes suddenly felt hot with tears. Her aunt and uncle took notice and hurried over.

"Daddy got her to tell us that she's in LA, but she won't tell us where or-" her sister's voice broke. "I'm sorry, Lizzie, I know you're having fun on your vacation but… Dad's gone to LA to find her, but… he's afraid she might be sick and that if he calls the police they'll only arrest her or…" Jane was sobbing. "I'm sorry, Lizzie, but if you could just come home… Mom's a wreck, and Dad could really use Uncle John's help, and…" She paused again, and Eliza found herself sobbing along with her sister. "She sounded really sick on the phone, Lizzie. I'm… I'm worried. Please come as fast as you can." Click.

Eliza dropped the receiver, tears coming hot and fast now. _Stupid Lydia_, she thought furiously. _How could she?_

"Lizzie, darling, what's wrong?" Aunt Anne asked, wrapping an arm around Eliza's shoulders. Eliza turned to her aunt and buried her face in her neck. Aunt Anne stroked her back soothingly, and in a minute or so she had regained enough composure to stand up.

"It was Jane," she began. "Lydia has run away." Aunt Anne and Will gasped; Uncle John just sighed and buried his face in his hands. "With George Wickham," Eliza went on, looking at Will. His eyes widened, but they didn't betray any emotion.

"Do they know anything? Have they called the police?" Uncle John asked sharply.

"She's in Los Angeles," Eliza replied, unable to look away from Will. "Dad's gone to look for her… he's afraid she might be doing something illegal."

Uncle John stamped his foot. "That girl… I'll go to LA at once. You two will go home."

"This is my fault," Will suddenly said, walking forward. "I should have exposed Wickham ages ago."

"No, this is my fault… I should have at least been honest with my sisters about him," she said. He looked at the floor while backing away. She imagined a trace of disgust on his face.

"I should leave, I'm intruding," he said.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Aunt Anne said.

"It was my pleasure. I am sorry," he replied, staring straight into Eliza's eyes. This only made her cry more.

"I am, too," she whispered, drinking in his image one last time, from his thick curly hair to his beautiful green eyes, to his impossibly shiny shoes. She was quite certain that this would be the last time she would ever see him, and she knew that she would regret it terribly someday. He nodded, and then swept from the room, the door closing with a bang behind him.

The Gardiners sprang into action; Uncle John got on the phone immediately to find flights back to the US while Eliza and Aunt Anne furiously packed. It took nearly an hour to pack up their five suitcases, including all their new purchases. Uncle John finally hung up after forty-five minutes of yelling into the phone; he announced that he had booked himself a flight to Los Angeles that left in two hours, and that they would be heading back to New York in three.

The wait at the airport was excruciating. After an exhausting security check, Eliza and Aunt Anne had hovered close to their flight's gate until their seats were called. Eliza squirmed and fidgeted the entire flight, and for once she was thankful for the time difference: when they touched down, it was only six in the evening. She and Aunt Anne urged the cabbie to drive as fast as possible, so that by the time they reached the Bennet house, they were both nauseous and dizzy. Aunt Anne assured Eliza that she would get the suitcases, so Eliza pelted into the house.

It was worse than she could have imagined. The living room was upended; dishes and drinking glasses were everywhere, pillows were scattered all over the floor, and her mother, the queen of appearances, was laid sprawled over the couch.

"Lizzie!"

Jane jumped at the sight of Lizzie and rushed over; the two sisters hugged for minutes on end. Jane looked worse for the wear: there were dark circles under her eyes, which were bloodshot and watery. Her hair was tangled and messy, and her smile was shaky.

"Oh, Lizzie, thank God you're here," she said.

"Of course. Uncle John's gone to LA already," she said.

"Oh thank heavens," Jane said, grasping onto Eliza's elbows as she sagged in relief. "It's a nightmare, Lizzie. Mom's gone off the deep end, I don't know what to do."

"I do… you go eat something and take a nap. I'll take over," Lizzie said. Jane bit her lip and looked around at their mother, whose eyes were closed. Mary and Cate were curled up in the armchairs, napping lightly. Eliza prodded her sister toward the kitchen, who went reluctantly. She then tiptoed toward her mother and sat on the edge of the sofa. Sighing, she brushed a lock of hair off her mother's forehead. Her heart felt heavy as she surveyed the disastrous room. She had always known her little sister to be flighty, but had never thought she would do anything like this. She should've straightened Lydia out years ago; then this never would have happened. It she hadn't written Lydia off as just a ditz, she could have turned her into a responsible young woman who didn't run off with musicians and become a drug addict. Her head fell to her knees as the tears threatened to return.

How on Earth were they going to get out of this in one piece?

* * *

The second the door closed behind him, Will made a run for it. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, leaping down them two at a time. The image of Eliza's crying face was indelibly burned into his mind; he had to get to LA.

This was all his fault, no matter what she said. It was only his own selfishness that had prevented him from exposing George in the first place. He should have had George arrested years ago, placed behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. As he got in the car, he called to the house to get Mary to get the plane ready. She promised to call John, the pilot, and have him there in twenty minutes, ready to fly to Los Angeles. Will raced to the airport, racking his brain. Where would George go in LA? Who could he call to help him find George?

With a heavy heart, he realized that he had nearly ten long hours to figure all that out.

* * *

A/N: I am really sorry for the long wait. I know it's a tired excuse, but school has been ridiculously crazy. Every time I thought I had time to write this chapter – bam! I'd have a bazillion assignments to do. But I finally said enough is enough, and took a break from studying to write it.

Now we come to the sad, bittersweet part, where Eliza thinks she'll never see Will again and Will realizes he has to make amends. There are approximately five chapters left (I know I said there were more, but I lied. Oops!)

Ok, well please review! Please, please, please!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	25. Darcy's Search

Chapter 25 - _Darcy's Search_

Los Angeles was deathly hot in the middle of August. Will's shirt was soaked through the moment he stepped off the plane. During his flight, he had called his friend John, an old Oxford mate, who was now working in the city's local FBI branch. Will had not risked asking him to look up George, but he did ask him to locate one Mrs. Margaret Farrington, who had had quite unfortunate dealings with Will in the past. She had been Georgia's nanny when Georgia had been young, but seemed to have not been able to find another job after being let go by the Darcys. Will had found that it was she, several years later, who had supplied George with drugs, and it was she who had arranged for Georgia's transportation to London. Somehow Will had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Farrington might just so happen to be located in Los Angeles now.

Sure enough, John called back a few hours later and gave Will an address in West Hollywood. The name wasn't an exact match, he said, but he admitted that they, too, had been keeping an eye on her for several months. Will thanked him appreciatively, and was about to set out, but his pilot convinced him that it would be better if he found a hotel and got some rest first. Will reluctantly agreed, and asked for some suggestions of hotels at the airport.

After doing a fast bit of shopping – considering he hadn't packed a single thing – Will checked in at the hotel, and then went up to his room and collapsed on the bed. It was barely five o'clock, but he could feel the jet lag catching up with him. To his body, it felt as if it were two in the morning, and yet he couldn't sleep. He just lay on the bed, switching between cursing Wickham and thinking of Eliza. He had never seen her cry before, but that one time was enough to convince him that he never wanted to see her cry again. God, Wickham was such a fool. How he was able to live with himself was beyond Will's imagination.

Will lay there for hours, planning. Once he found Lydia, he would make sure she was alright. If she had been using – and in all likelihood, she probably was – he would send her to a good rehab center here in California. As for Wickham – if he had any drugs on him, Will would have him arrested, something he should have done years ago. And if he didn't, then Will would just have to find a way to forcibly get _him_ to a rehab center, too. Unfortunately, then came the trouble of telling the Bennets. He did not, under any circumstances, want Eliza finding out what he was doing. He wasn't sure how she would construe it. There was, of course, no doubt that she had been friendly to him during her time in Derby, but he was hardly about to let himself hope that she had fallen in love with him over the course of a couple of days. And then there was the way she had looked at him as he left; her eyes had a definite sense of finality in them. Perhaps she blamed him for what was happening to her sister, and never wanted to see him again. The thought made his blood run cold.

Will barely slept, unable to tell what time of day it was. When he awoke at seven in the morning, he felt exhausted but undeniably awake. He scarfed down breakfast and then went to see the concierge to show him the address of Mrs. Farrington. He explained that it was his first time in LA, but that it was imperative he got to this address as quickly as possible. The concierge noticeably raised his eyebrows when he saw the address, but assured Will that he would arrange for Will to have a driver during his stay who would take him wherever he needed to go. Will thanked him and then went upstairs to change; he thought it would probably be best if he didn't wear his usual attire, and instead changed into a pair of jeans and simple shirt.

Stepping once again into the lobby, the concierge informed him that his car was waiting outside and that he had already instructed the driver to take Will to exactly that address. Will thanked him and slipped him a generous tip before rushing outside and getting into the car.

_Here goes nothing_.

* * *

The Bennet house was in complete chaos. Mr. Bennet had been gone for nearly five days now, but every time he called, it was only to say that they hadn't found her yet. Eliza kept encouraging her father to call the police, but then Lydia herself would call and assure them that she was safe, but that she was, under no circumstances, coming back home. Mrs. Bennet grew hysterical every time the phone rang, and no matter what Eliza said to her sister, Lydia wouldn't budge.

"Lydia, at least let Dad see you," Eliza was saying to Lydia on the sixth day.

"No… he'll force me to come home," Lydia said; her voice was oddly hoarse.

Eliza sighed. "He just wants to make sure you're alright. We all do."

"I'm _fine_… God Lizzie, let it go!" Lydia audibly sniffed and then coughed.

"You certainly don't _sound_ fine," Eliza said sharply.

"I said let it go!"

Click. Lydia had hung up, and Eliza set the phone back down with another sigh, something she had been doing a lot of these days. She no longer felt like crying; instead, she had a heavy weight, a thick tension, lying in her chest that only worsened with every phone call. Lydia sounded horrible, and Eliza had half a mind to leap on a plane and go to LA herself, if it weren't for the dire state of the rest of her family. Jane came over after work, but even together they could barely get her mother to eat anything besides soup.

"Oh my poor girl…" Mrs. Bennet wailed as their aunt Alice Phillips held her hand.

"Oh, Fanny… you know, I heard that Mrs. Matthews talking about Lydia yesterday in the grocery store… naturally, I asked her to please stop, but I suspect she just kept gossiping after I left," Aunt Alice said. Eliza groaned softly; she loved her aunt, but she wasn't much of a help.

"Mrs. Matthews!" Mrs. Bennet cried, sitting up on the couch a little. "That horrible woman… what was she saying?"

"She was saying that most people think that Lydia has joined some sort of cult and is out in Kansas slaughtering sheep," Aunt Alice said precisely.

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet yelped, turning to bury her face in a pillow.

"Aunt Alice," Eliza broke in sharply, a little upset with her aunt. "Would you like something to drink?"

Aunt Alice smiled at her obliviously. "No, dear, I'd better be going. I'll come back tomorrow to check up."

Eliza smiled but didn't bother to walk her aunt out. Instead she walked over to her mother and sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"Oh, Lydia… how could they say such things? Especially that Mrs. Matthews… everyone knows her son got sent to military school for getting that girl pregnant," Mrs. Bennet said bitterly.

Eliza rolled her eyes, but fixed the pillows into a more comfortable position. Leave it to her mother to criticize gossiping and yet gossip at the same time.

"Don't think about it, Mom," she said.

She sat with her mother until she fell asleep. Eliza then took to cleaning up the living room, although no matter how many times she cleaned it, it always managed to look like a wreck by the next day. She was just cleaning some dishes in the kitchen when Jane came in quietly through the back door.

"It's quiet," Jane said softly. "Is Mom asleep?"

Eliza nodded as Jane sighed and shook her head.

"Did Lydia call today?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Eliza said, scrubbing a little harder than was needed. Jane didn't need to ask how the conversation went, and instead stood next to Eliza and started drying.

"This is really a disaster, isn't it Lizzie?" Jane asked a few minutes later. Eliza looked over to see her sister tearing up.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, placing a reassuring arm around her sister's waist. She was silent a few moments, before adding, "And it's all my fault."

"What? Lizzie-" Jane started to say, but Eliza shushed her. She then beckoned her sister to follow her outside. Once they were safely out on the patio by the pool, she took a deep breath and turned to Jane.

"I was completely wrong about Wickham," Eliza began.

"Oh, Lizzie, don't blame yourself. None of us thought he-" Jane said, but Eliza again held up her hand to stop her.

"No… I've _known_ I was completely wrong about Wickham for… for a long time. The story he told me about him and Darcy… it was a complete lie. It was the other way around. Wickham screwed _Will_… badly." Even as she said it, the memory of Darcy made her begin to cry. She would have killed to have him by her side right now, so solid and sturdy.

"Oh, Lizzie…" Jane said, startled by Eliza's tears. "But how do you know all this?"

"That doesn't matter," Eliza said quickly. "The point is I never told any of you, and I should have! Wickham's toxic, and he's going to hurt her, I know he is! I should have told her…" she trailed off, allowing herself to be wrapped in Jane's arms.

"Lizzie, even if you had told her… do you really think Lydia would have listened?" Jane said. This comforted Eliza a little, but not much.

"Well, no…" she admitted, her tears slowing. "But maybe if I had at least told you, or Mom, or even Cate…"

"She still would have run off," Jane said firmly. "Nothing you or anyone said could have made any difference."

Eliza sighed, knowing her sister told the truth. She stepped back a little, wiping away her tears. She could tell Jane was still curious as to how she found out about Wickham in the first place, but she still wasn't ready to tell her sister about Will. She supposed she was afraid that Jane would be too surprised, or would think that Will really would never want to see her again, or wouldn't understand how much he had changed.

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off by a shriek. She and Jane looked at each other before hurrying inside. They found their mother practically glued to a tired figure – their father.

"Dad!" Jane yelped as they both rushed toward him. He smiled wearily and gave them each a hug.

"So? You found her?" Eliza said, clapping her hands together.

Her heart fell as her father shook his head. "No… John stayed – he's still looking. I'll go back out in a few days if I have to."

"But why did you come back?" Jane asked. Mr. Bennet poked his head over his sobbing wife's hair.

"I heard your mother was… well, now I understand," he said, his voice muffled against their mother's cries. Eliza and Jane nodded, but Eliza felt a bit disconcerted. Her father had just left, gave up, without finding Lydia first? She looked at Jane, but her sister only shot her a look that said 'don't upset anyone.' Eliza sighed and went up to her room. With her father back to look after her mother for a bit, she instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Will had been in Los Angeles for four days, and still he was getting nowhere. He had gone to Mrs. Farrington's house – a run-down shack on the corner of Murder and Rape – eight times now but still hadn't managed to catch her. He began his fifth day somewhat downhearted, but again got in the car and headed down the familiar route. Pulling up to the house, he asked the driver to drive around and meet him back here in fifteen minutes. He then turned to the house and found an encouraging sign: a car in the driveway.

Will hurried up the front steps and banged on the door. A couple of seconds later, the screen door opened and Mrs. Farrington appeared on the other side. She was a scrawny, middle-aged lady with bleached hair and permanently-orange skin. Her eyes bugged when she saw him, and she immediately slammed the door shut again. He groaned and started banging again.

"Mrs. Farrington! Mrs. Farrington!" he yelled, and moments later she was back.

"Be quiet, will ya?" she cried. "No one calls me that anymo'."

"I need to talk to you," he demanded. She glared at him.

"Why?" she poked her head out and scanned the street. "Gonna get me arrested?"

"Should I?" he said, fixing her with a steely eye.

"Whaddya want then?" she asked, although they both knew perfectly well what he wanted.

"Where is he, Margaret?"

"Where's who?"

"You know who. Wickham," Will said.

Mrs. Farrington shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, examining her fingernails.

"Why should I tell you?" she said.

Loathing himself, Will set his teeth and said, "I'll make it worth your while." He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it onto a table she had inside.

She pursed her lips, examining the money. Then she said, "He's living over The Blue Fish. It's a club downtown."

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded her head and then slammed the door shut once more. Will turned to find the car driving slowly down the street; Will waved to him and he sped up. Will asked him to take him back to the hotel; first he would have to find wherever this Blue Fish was before storming over there.

Telling the driver to wait a few minutes, he practically ran into the hotel to one of the computer consoles they had in the lobby. He quickly looked up the name of the club; it took a minute or two, but finally he was able to scribble down the address before racing back out to the car. He shoved the address into the driver's hands, who looked at it for a second before taking off.

Twenty minutes later, they were parked in front of the shabby club. Will thanked the driver and again asked him to wait; the driver shrugged and told him he would drive him around all day the way he was paying.

His stomach clenching ever so slightly, Will walked around the side of the club to find a metal staircase leading up to the third floor. He took the stairs two at a time and soon found himself in front of plain wooden door with no window or peephole. Once again he pounded on the door. A minute went by with no answer, so he began pounding again. This time he heard yelling from inside, and then several seconds later, the door opened. Will found himself facing Lydia, although if she hadn't been the subject of his search for the past several days, he never would have recognized her. She was pale and thin, her eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark purple circles. She was sweating a little as she stared at him with her mouth open for a moment or two.

"Darcy? What the hell are you doing here?" she finally said.

"Darcy?" Will heard George's voice come from further back in the apartment. "That goddam…"

Will strode past Lydia and went straight into the apartment. It was dimly lit and had a foul smell. Two mattresses were laid out on the floor, and it looked as though they had failingly tried to clean up; the blankets lying on top of the mattresses were oddly lumpy in places.

"Darcy!" George yelled, staggering out of the miniscule bathroom. "What the hell _are_ you doing here?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," Will said, before reeling back his fist and thrusting it right into George's smug face. Wickham staggered back as Lydia shrieked and rushed toward him.

"That wasn't very gentleman-like," George said with a sneer, throwing off Lydia and standing back up.

"Neither is this," Will said, punching George again in the stomach. George snarled and then lunged toward Will, pushing him back up against the wall. Will hit his head hard against the solid brick, but George was too weak for him. Will easily overpowered him and turned and pushed him against the wall.

"What, Will… I'm not doing anything wrong," George said in a pathetic voice.

"Oh really?" Will said, letting him go for a second, in which George sunk to the floor. "Then what's this?" Will demanded, pulling off the blankets, exposing needles and little plastic bags of drugs.

Wickham didn't answer, only glared at Will. Lydia, who had until now been mostly quiet and shaking, suddenly swayed on her feet. Will caught her before she fell to the floor.

"Looks just like your sister did, doesn't she?" George said smoothly from the ground. Will propped Lydia against the sofa for a moment, and then turned to George, trembling from head to foot in pure rage. Wickham was huddled against the wall, his lip and nose bleeding profusely. He stared up at Will in pathetic defiance.

"Enjoy your time in prison," Will growled, before walking toward George and hitting him one last time over the head. George's eyes rolled for a brief second, before he slumped over onto his side.

Will felt truly shaken; he had never hurt anyone quite like that before. He shook out his hand, which was throbbing painfully from dealing so many blows. He turned back to Lydia, who was still leaning faintly against the sofa. He scooped her up and then left the dingy apartment. His car was still sitting patiently on the street, but the driver opened his eyes in surprise when Will re-entered with the sweating and shaking Lydia.

"To this address, please," Will said, handing the driver the address of a rehab center he had already looked up. The driver nodded and took off.

Will turned to Lydia and patted her lightly on the cheek. She came to, but yelped and scooted away from him when she opened her eyes.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Where's George?"

"George is… incapacitated," Will replied slowly. Lydia narrowed her eyes and glared at him. She didn't look much like Eliza at all, except for the dark hair.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded next; her voice was high and shrill, much like Mrs. Bennet's, Will thought. "I won't go home!"

"I'm not taking you home. I'm taking you to a treatment center," he said calmly.

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm fine!" Lydia said petulantly.

"No, you're not," he said firmly. "You're very sick, and if I don't take you get treated, you might just die."

"When George comes to get me…"

"George isn't going to come for you. He doesn't care about you. And he'll be going away for a little while, anyway," Will told her. Her face screwed up in confusion.

"What does that mean? And yeah, he does so care about me! He brought me here, didn't he?" she said.

Will sighed and shook his head. "He brought you here to get you high and to have sex with you. That's it."

This disgusting statement had little if no effect on Lydia whatsoever.

"Does this have something to do with my sister? You like her, don't you… Lizzie. Goddam perfect Lizzie. Daddy thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. And you do, too, don't you? You think that by saving her poor little sister she'll suddenly fall in love with you? Well she won't! She hates you… and she doesn't give a crap about me, either," Lydia ranted, wiping sweat off her forehead.

Will was silent a moment; yes, it certainly was all for her sister. But even if Eliza still hated him… it was worth it. Lydia, whatever her faults, did not deserve this. No one did.

"You needed help. I knew where to find Wickham," he finally said.

Lydia gave a huff and crossed her arms. "Whatever."

Will rolled his eyes and looked out the window. The address he had given the driver was not in Los Angeles; in fact, it was in Malibu. It took nearly a half an hour to get there with the traffic, but finally they pulled onto a long, sandy drive that led to a huge, elegant mansion. It was bright white with blue shutters, and stood on a cliff right beside the ocean. Lydia's mouth fell open when she saw it, and didn't seem to struggle quite as much when Will opened the door and took her wrist. He led her inside, where several women in clean white uniforms welcomed them warmly in a brightly lit lobby. Will smiled and explained who they were; he had made arrangements ahead of time, saying that he would bring Lydia in sometime during the week. They had offered to help with the intervention, but he had insisted on doing it himself. They seemed relieved to see him.

Within minutes, they had taken Lydia back, leaving Will to write the fairly large check. He did so gladly, and then, in a hushed voice, he asked them if they could call the police and direct them to George's address. They smiled sympathetically and nodded; "Anything that will help our patients cut themselves off from their past" they told him. He thanked them profusely, and then left, promising that Lydia's family would return for her.

Once in the car again, Will finally let himself relax. The whole ordeal had thoroughly upset him, and he was relieved to see it done. He returned to the hotel, and after thanking and paying the driver quite generously, he dragged himself up to his room.

After a short nap, Will awoke again with a plan. It seemed the only logistical way… yes, he could trust them.

Digging into his wallet, he pulled out a plain white business card. One side said _Gardiner Realty, Manhattan_, but on the other was scribbled a phone number. Will checked the clock; it was five o'clock here, meaning it was eight o'clock on the East Coast. That was reasonable.

He picked up the phone and dialed, his stomach flurrying with butterflies.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Gardiner?"

* * *

Eliza had a headache. A throbbing, agonizing headache that blocked out all thoughts and emotions. She was lying on the cold floor of the bathroom, the only safe haven in the house. Her mother still hadn't left the sofa, and her father had locked himself in his study ever since he returned. Eliza was very jealous.

Suddenly, she heard the phone ring. She bolted upright, a move she regretted a nanosecond later. She could hear the entire family racing to the phone as she left the bathroom. The house rang with "hello?"s, but soon she could hear Jane telling everyone except for Dad to hang up. She stood at the top of the stairs, debating whether or not to go down. Every other time she had hurried herself down, it was for nothing. But then Jane appeared at the bottom of the stairs, motioning quickly with her hands.

"It's Uncle John!" she said softly but urgently. Eliza nearly forgot about her headache as she rushed down the stairs and sat down eagerly in the living room. Everyone stared at the door to Mr. Bennet's study, waiting with bated breath for several long minutes. Jane was holding both her mother and Eliza's hands, and Cate and Mary sat on the arms of the sofa. Finally, after what certainly felt like an eternity, Mr. Bennet emerged.

"Well?" Mrs. Bennet screeched. "Any news?"

"John has found her. He's found Lydia," Mr. Bennet said, leaning a hand against the end table. The entire family erupted into screams of joy; Jane wrapped Eliza into a suffocating hug. Eliza, however, soon shushed everyone… she could tell her father had much more to say.

"He says he's taken Lydia to a drug rehabilitation center," Mr. Bennet went on. Mrs. Bennet immediately burst into tears and Jane's hand flew up to her mouth. "It's a residential center, and she'll be able to come home in sixty days."

"Sixty days?" Mrs. Bennet trilled.

"Is she alright?" Cate asked, her voice wavering.

"She'll be fine," Mr. Bennet said, patting his daughter on the back. "He said they told him there shouldn't be any long-term damage."

"And what about Wickham?" Eliza demanded.

"He has been arrested. For drug possession," Mr. Bennet replied. Eliza sighed, her heart falling. _Oh Lydia…_

"John gave me the name and address of the facility, but we cannot go visit her for two weeks. We can call her, and she can call us. That's it," Mr. Bennet continued.

Jane sighed, patting Eliza's knee. As the rest of the family erupted into chatter, however, Eliza followed her father with her eyes as he retreated back into his study. She leapt up and quickly went after him.

"Oh, Lizzie," Mr. Bennet said when he turned to find her there. They soon collapsed into a hug, her father holding onto Eliza for dear life.

"Breathe, Dad. She's found. She's safe," Eliza said comfortingly.

But Mr. Bennet just shook his head. "John found her. I gave up," he said in a small voice that terrified Eliza.

"No you didn't. You had already been there nearly a week. You were concerned for your family," Eliza said.

Mr. Bennet was silent as he eased into his desk chair. His hair was ruffled and his shirt was wrinkled. Eliza had never seen him so unkempt.

"That facility is the best in California. How much it must cost… how can I ever repay him?" Mr. Bennet said, running a hand through his hair. Eliza sighed.

"We'll think of something, Dad," she said. "We'll think of something."

* * *

A/N:

Woo! Fast update! This chapter just poured right out of me, so I hope you like it. Hey, do you think we could get to 400 reviews? Woo! Please review!

And the countdown continues… four more chapters. Next chapter we shall see Darcy making amends in a different area, and then the chapter after that, Charles and Darcy return to Netherfield! Yay!

Ok, so please review. It makes me so happy!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	26. Misery Loves Company

Chapter 26 – _Misery Loves Company

* * *

_

A week or so after he returned from Los Angeles, and after he had confided the story to his sister, Will was still feeling a bit down. There had been two very specific accusations Eliza had made against him all those months ago in New York, and he had only fixed one of them so far. After noticing Charles' behavior toward Eliza and his questions about Jane, Will finally realized that he had, indeed, been very wrong. The question was, how to get Charles back to Netherfield? Will couldn't completely assure him that Jane wasn't terribly angry at him, or that she would consider going out with him after what had happened. But he could convince Charles to at least try, and that's what he planned to do.

September was a slow month at Darcy and Darcy legal firm. A large majority of their cases had recently been resolved, and both Will and Richard were relieved to take a bit of a breather. They spent most of their days dealing with a few clients and organizing the office. One day, Will decided to take a leap of faith and confide in Richard.

"It's obvious he's still broken up about her," he was saying that afternoon. "I've got to get him back to Long Island, I just do."

Richard smiled sadly at Will. "You're right, you do."

"But how?" Will asked.

"You've got to tell him," Richard said simply. "Tell him that you were wrong about Jane, and you want to help him get her back."

Will sighed, his shoulders dropping. "He'll hate me, won't he?"

"He'll understand… you made a mistake," Rich said reassuringly.

"Charles thinks I don't make mistakes," Will said.

Richard laughed. "Everyone makes mistakes, even you. Just make sure he knows you're sorry."

Will nodded fervently. "I am sorry."

"So say that. And then go back to Long Island with him and make sure he gets her back."

"Wait, I never said I was going with him," Will said quickly. He hadn't counted on this; he did _not_ want to go back to Long Island. He didn't think he would be able to leave Eliza yet again.

"You have to!" Rich exclaimed.

"Why?"

"For moral support!"

Will groaned. "I don't want to go to Long Island."

"Look, Will, if Charles is going out with Jane, you're going to have to just suck it up and deal with her family. I know you don't like any of them, but –"

"I never said I don't like any of them," Will said sharply. Rich narrowed his eyes.

"Then why…" he trailed off, and then gasped suddenly. "You arse, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Will said, turning toward the file cabinet and opening it for no good reason.

"_Eliza_," Richard said slowly. "I should've known, the way you took off after her on New Year's."

Will opened his mouth to deny it, and then sighed. He was sick of lying.

"Alright, yes, Eliza. I don't want to see her, alright?" Will said.

"Why, what happened?" Rich asked, leaning an elbow on the cabinet and staring eagerly at his cousin.

Will shrugged, not wanting to tell him the _whole_ story. Richard smiled and laughed.

"Oh cousin… I never thought I'd see the day. But she _is_ a fantastic girl… I wouldn't have flirted with her so much if I knew you liked her," he said, still grinning.

"Yes, that _was_ rather annoying," Will said, smiling in spite of himself.

"So? You can go back to Long Island with Charles and get _your_ girl, too! It's perfect!" Rich said excitedly. But Will shook his head.

"No… Eliza doesn't… no," he muttered.

Richard groaned and hit Will on the shoulder. "Will, either way, you've got to go. For Charles… and if you end up getting something for yourself, all the better!"

He winked at Will and then returned to his desk. Will sighed again, knowing he was right. He had to go with Charles, as a friend. As for Eliza… well, he would just have to take whatever came.

Later that afternoon, Will called the Gardiners. After he had called Mrs. Gardiner from LA, he had met up with John and given him all the details of the rehabilitation facility and the paperwork. John had insisted on paying him, but Will refused. He had also told the Gardiners to not, under any circumstances, tell any of the Bennets what he had done, and to take full credit for it. Mrs. Gardiner had tried to convince him to at least let her tell Lizzie, but Will was adamant. They reluctantly agreed, but told him that he could call them for anything, no matter how big or small.

"Hi, Mrs. Gardiner, it's Will," he said when Mrs. Gardiner answered the phone.

"Will! How nice to hear from you. How are you?" she said warmly. He couldn't help but smile.

"I'm very well, and you?"

"Just peachy," she said with a giggle.

"Good… um, I have a favor to ask of you, I hope it's not too much trouble," he went on.

"Not at all, Will! Anything you need," she said quickly.

"Well, I need to lease a property in Long Island… the same house that my friend leased last summer. I was wondering if you could help me out?"

Mrs. Gardiner was thrilled to help. She assured him that she would arrange everything, and sure enough, a few days later, she called back to say that she had secured the house for him for the last two weeks of September. He thanked her enthusiastically, and then set about preparing himself to tell Charles.

Charles was working for his father at the family law firm just outside of London. His and Will's law firms didn't compete because they handled very different types of cases. Charles seemed to be getting on well, but his father wasn't quite letting him handle much work yet, and so seemed to be rather bored. Therefore, he was thrilled when Will asked him to meet for lunch one Friday.

"Thank _God_ you called me, Will," Charles said excitedly as they sat down. "That office was starting to feel as small as a shoebox."

Will laughed feebly, and quickly ordered some wine. Charles settled back in his chair and chattered on for a few minutes about work and his father. Will waited for the wine to come, and then, once they had ordered, he told Charles that there was something he wanted to talk about.

"Oh, right, you said that on the phone," Charles said, leaning in. "What's up?"

"Well, I just wanted to talk to you about… well, about Jane," Will began hesitantly. Charles' face immediately clouded over.

"Jane? Jane Bennet?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Jane Bennet." Will took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology, Charles. A rather big apology, actually. When we left Netherfield last year, I told you that she wasn't in love with you, and I was wrong. Very wrong." He paused. "I admit I may have let my own prejudices stop me from judging her correctly. I judged her solely on her family and her money and her being an American, and for that I'm very sorry. She loved you, Charles, she did, and I should not have gotten in the way."

Charles was staring hard at his bread. His right hand was gripped tightly on his knife, while the butter in his left was slowly being squished. Will bit his lip, wondering if he should go on.

"I've been miserable for a year," Charles suddenly said, very softly. "It took you a year to figure this out?" he went on, his voice rising.

"Unfortunately, yes," Will said.

Charles was staring at him now, but Will still could not make out his expression.

"You knew I would always trust your judgment. I've always trusted your judgment. When you said she didn't love me, you knew I would believe it," Charles said. It was Will's turn to lower his eyes.

"I know, but Charles…"

"I knew in my gut that you were wrong but I didn't want to believe myself. You've always done this. I've known you've been wrong before, but you always refuse to admit that you're not right!"

Will was taken aback by Charles' aggressive tone. "I'm admitting it now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, now when it's too late!" Charles said, banging his knife onto the table. Will stared at him; he had never seen Charles this angry before, and it was rather unsettling. _You have only proved yourself to be arrogant, conceited, selfish, and hold nothing but disdain for the feelings of others._ Eliza's word suddenly rang about his mind. Will bit his lip before he said anything he might regret later, and then took a deep breath and spoke calmly.

"It's not too late, Charles," he said. Charles rolled his eyes, but Will went on, "It's not. I've rented the house on Netherfield Beach for the last two weeks in August and we are going back there and you are getting Jane back."

Charles' expression changed. His eyes widened, and he looked at Will in amazement.

"We? You mean you _and_ me?"

Will nodded. "Yes. We are going back there, and I will help you get her back if it's the last thing I do."

Charles then started to laugh. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am."

There was a long, somewhat awkward, silence. Charles was still staring at Will as if he had never seen him before.

"You'd do that?" he finally said, his voice softened.

Will nodded again. "Yes. I know I haven't been one in the past, but I _can_ be a good friend, and I am going to prove it."

Charles' shoulders fell. "You _are_ a good friend, Will. I didn't mean to say that you weren't. You were looking out for me, I know."

They both sighed as their lunch was placed down in front of them. The tension seemed to instantly dissolve as they began eating.

"So," Charles said, "when do we leave?"

* * *

Eliza's first day of graduate school came as a bit of shock. After her rather dramatic summer, the fact that she had to return to school seemed rather mundane. Her only bit of excitement came when she moved out of the house and into an apartment on campus. Because she had received a very generous scholarship, and Jane had moved out, Mr. Bennet had decided that he could finally spring for on-campus housing. Eliza was beyond thrilled when she finally moved into her apartment. It was small, to be sure, but she had it all to herself. She had a small kitchen with a nice new oven and stovetop, a small eating area, a nice comfortable living room, a narrow but relatively new bathroom, and a spacious bedroom. She spent a long time decorating it, and within a week, it felt like home. She still of course, had to visit her parents and sisters once a weekend because her mother was still not doing well ever since Lydia had left. Lydia called five times a week, and from what her father told Eliza, she was doing much better.

As she started her classes, however, Eliza still thought of Will all the time. She was now mortified at how he had last seen her, and she wished she hadn't told him anything of her sister and Wickham. Not that she thought he would spread the story of her sister's humiliation; indeed, she couldn't think of anyone she could trust more to keep it silent. But it must have confirmed what he had thought of her family all along, and now she was positive that she would never see him again. Nothing in her entire life had ever made her quite as miserable as this. She suddenly wished that she could hear anything about him, but knew that it was impossible. He was gone from her life, just when she was wishing that he could be part of it.

Eliza was working in the library one day when her cellphone rang. She rushed to answer it; although they were allowed to talk on their phones in the library, she still felt embarrassed every time she did.

"Hello?" she whispered, retreating to a corner where there was no one around.

"Lizzie? Lizzie?"

It was Lydia. Eliza was surprised but gratified that her sister was calling her, and eased into an armchair.

"Hi, Lydia, I'm here," she said.

"Oh. Hi, Lizzie. I'm supposed to talk to you," Lydia said irritably.

"Well, it's nice to hear from you," Eliza said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm supposed to talk to every family member for at least five minutes," Lydia informed her. "They're watching me."

"Well, good. You talked to everyone at home, then?"

"Yes, and it took forever. Mom just goes on and on about how many days left until she comes to get me, and Dad just talks about work."

"Yeah, well, that's Dad. So how are you?"

Lydia groaned. "Fine," she said sharply. "I've _been_ fine for weeks now, they just won't let me go."

"That's their job, Lydia. They have to make sure you're healthy."

"I _am_ healthy. Where's George?" she demanded.

Eliza sighed. Lydia repeated this inquiry on every single phone call, and no one had yet told her. Eliza, however, decided it was time to let her know.

"He was arrested, Lydia. He's in jail," Eliza said, bracing herself.

"What!" Lydia screeched. Eliza jerked the phone away at Lydia's shrill voice.

"He had five liters of heroin in his apartment, Lydia!" Eliza said.

"So? God, if it weren't for that stupid Darcy showing up at the apartment that day…" Lydia started muttering to herself.

Eliza, however, had bolted up straight. "What?" she said quickly. "What about Darcy?"

"Oh… I wasn't supposed to tell you about that. Oops," Lydia said dryly. Eliza frowned at the phone.

"I have to go," she said, and then hung up on Lydia. Eliza stared at the phone for a minute or two; what had she meant about Darcy? Her heart began to race as she dialed the Gardiners' number. Her aunt and uncle weren't in, though, and Eliza slammed her phone shut again. She had to find out – what had Lydia meant?

Eliza raced to a computer and logged on quickly. Opening her e-mail, she made a new message.

_Aunt Anne,_ she wrote,

_I was just talking on the phone with Lydia. She said something about Darcy showing up at their apartment? Do you know anything about this? And I don't care if it's supposed to be a secret, because you know I'll just have to use some other way to find out._

_Thanks,_

_Eliza_

She wanted to wait at the computer for her aunt's answer, but after five minutes of just staring at the screen, she could tell people around her were glaring at her for hogging the computer. She reluctantly signed out and left the computer to go back to her studies. But she just couldn't concentrate. Why had Will been at the apartment? Her mind was working overtime, coming up with several scenarios, each as farfetched as the last. After a few hours, she banged her books closed, having not gotten any work done. The library was emptying quickly as people went to dinner, and Eliza was able to find an empty computer. She impatiently re-opened her e-mail, and was thrilled to find her aunt had answered.

_Lizzie,_

_I have to admit I'm a little surprised to be getting this question from you; I would have thought you would've figured it out by now. But since you seem very concerned, I will explain everything. I'm not supposed to, mind you, but I feel you have a right to know._

_Your uncle had been in LA for a few days when I received a phone call from Will Darcy. He asked to speak to your uncle, but I told him that John was in LA looking for Lydia. Will then asked where John was staying. I told him, but asked why he wanted to know. He then admitted that he had been in LA for several days, as well, and had found Lydia_ – _he had left Derby_ _the same night we did! He told me he had used some contacts to track Wickham down, and that just that day he had found Wickham and Lydia_ _in an apartment downtown. He then told me that he had taken Lydia_ _to a rehab center in Malibu, and had had Wickham arrested. I told him we would certainly repay him for the rehab facility, but he refused. I asked him why he had taken the trouble to do all this, and he said that it was his fault because he had never made Wickham's character known. If he had, he said, no one would be taken in by his charms as Lydia_ _was. I myself think he may have had another motive, but he was genuinely distressed about it. I then again told him where John was in LA, and he promised to fill John in on everything. He then asked me, quite fervently, if I could not say a word about his part in the whole thing. He told me to have John take the credit for finding them. I promised, but I'm afraid I've just broken his trust. Please don't say anything Lizzie – I know you may want to, but I gave Will my word, and I have to admit, Lizzie, that I like him very much. He's really an outstanding young man… he just needs someone with a bit of liveliness and humor, is all._

_Alright, now that I've embarrassed you enough, I'll leave you to make of this what you will._

_Love,_

_Aunt Anne_

Eliza gaped at the screen. It had all been Will… he had done everything. He had found them, paid for the rehab, had George taken away. And all for Lydia, a girl he never liked and certainly didn't hold in high esteem. Eliza thought, in her heart of hearts, that he had done it for her. But that was impossible… she couldn't be so vain as to think that he would go to all this trouble for _her_, a girl who had already brutally rejected him. Impossible! It was much more reasonable to think that he felt guilty about Wickham, about not exposing him earlier. This was clearly his motivation.

Eliza's insides burned with guilt. She and her family owed Lydia's very life to Darcy. Her heart fell in shame for every hateful word she had ever said against him. How wrong she had been… Will was a good man, had been all along. She just hadn't seen it… or perhaps, she thought secretly, she had brought it out in him. But that was ridiculous – he had loved her once, but never would again. Suddenly she started crying, right there at the computer, because she knew now that if he were, by some chance, to repeat what he had said on New Year's, she would say yes. She would kiss him and tell him that yes, she loved him, too. She did, she loved him, and she was realizing it right here in the library.

It took her several minutes to collect herself. She wiped away her tears and gathered her things. Walking slowly back to her apartment, Eliza realized she now knew what her sister must have felt like, maybe even still did feel like. With that in mind, she went home and invited her sister over for dinner, deciding to test the saying the misery does indeed love company.

* * *

A/N: Finally, Eliza admits what we've known all along! Obviously she won't be miserable for very long, as our lovers shall be reunited in the next chapter. Then the chapter after that will have the infamous Aunt Catherine visit, and then (gasp!) the final chapter. I'm hoping to somehow work in where Charlotte and Collins stand at the moment, too. Maybe there will have to be an epilogue… especially since it will end at Chapter 29 and that's just annoying.

For those who care to know, after this story is finished I plan on re-writing Goodbye, Hello and also working on one of my fairy tales. If you've read The Golden Thief, The Reluctant Cinderella, or Spinning a Yarn, I'm having a little vote on which one to continue. If you would like to see any of those continued, please tell me which one – and don't say all of them, because that's just impossible. :)

So please review! We did reach over 400, which is tres exciting! Keep 'em coming!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	27. Reunited

Chapter 27 – _Reunited… And It Feels So Good?

* * *

_

"Jane! Jane! Have you heard the news? Have you heard that… oh, it's only you, Lizzie."

"Nice to see you, too, Mom."

Eliza had arrived home for Cate's birthday dinner in mid-September only to be nearly run over by her mother, who was clearly excited about something. Eliza set down Cate's present and looked at her mother.

"What's the news, Mom?" she asked. Now that she lived on campus, Eliza sometimes felt very disconnected with the neighborhood and her family.

Her mother sighed and climbed onto the couch to look out the window.

"Charles Bingley is coming back to Netherfield! Mrs. Matthews told me… he's expected back in a week," her mother gushed.

Eliza's heart skipped a beat. Her thoughts, as they so often did these days, flickered to Will.

"Is anyone coming with him?" she asked hopefully.

"Carol didn't know… but who cares?" her mother replied.

_I do_, Eliza thought. She halfheartedly greeted the rest of her family, her heart now pounding. If Charles was coming back to Netherfield, it could only be for one reason: Jane. And it could only be because Will had given it his blessing, right? Right? she thought furiously. Unless he and Charles weren't friends anymore… but the odds of Charles suddenly growing a backbone were slim, she thought. So that could mean Will might be coming with him!

Eliza was lost in her thoughts until her mother shrieked and tore her out of her reverie.

"Jane's here!"

Eliza stopped thinking of Will for the moment; her stomach twisted as her sister opened the door and walked in. She was immediately overwhelmed by her mother, Cate, and even Mary. Jane glanced at Eliza in bewilderment as their mother and sisters babbled incoherently for a few seconds. Eliza gave her a pitying look and stood up.

"Mom… Cate, Mary… give Jane some air, sheesh," Eliza said, grasping Jane's wrist and guiding her over to the couch. Jane collapsed onto it, gift, grocery bags, and all.

"Did something happen to Lydia?" Jane asked.

"No, unfortunately," Eliza muttered.

"Bingley is returning! To the house on Netherfield Beach!" Mrs. Bennet burst out. Jane's eyes widened in shock, and she turned to Eliza for confirmation. Eliza nodded.

"Sorry," she murmured.

Jane seemed to collect her thoughts, and then asked, "When?"

"Next week," Mrs. Bennet said, sitting down next to her. "You didn't lose him after all!"

Jane rolled her eyes and set down the bags in her arms. "Well, it's not like he's coming here for me, Mom."

"Of course he is!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Of course, I told Mrs. Matthews we didn't care that he was coming back, but I've already told your father to invite him over for dinner, and…"

"Come on, let's go put your stuff in the kitchen," Eliza muttered quietly to Jane as their mother babbled on. Jane nodded in relief, and they swiftly interrupted their mother and made a break for it.

Jane started emptying her grocery bags without saying anything, but her lips were uncharacteristically pursed. Eliza helped her, unsure of what to say.

"Jane…" she started but Jane shook her head.

"Lizzie, I really don't care that he's coming back. I don't even live here anymore, I might not even see him," she said.

"You're going to avoid him, you mean," Eliza said. Jane sighed and pulled out a large box of noodles.

"I have no reason to avoid him, Lizzie. We were friends," Jane said evenly.

Eliza sighed, as well, and sat on one of the kitchen stools. If Jane was feeling anything like what Eliza was feeling at this moment, she knew her sister had to be a total wreck.

"You weren't just friends, Jane," Eliza said quietly.

"Yes, we were," Jane said, an unusual bite in her voice. "He made quite sure of that."

She started folding the bags with a bit more force than was necessary. Eliza bit her lip, forcing herself to stay quiet.

"If I see him, I see him," Jane said after a minute. "I'll be polite, but nothing more."

Eliza nodded. She thought of Will… if she saw him, she was quite sure she wouldn't be able to restrain herself to just politeness. Making out fiercely with him in the middle of the living room sounded like a much more reasonable idea.

"Alright," Eliza said finally. "Whatever you say."

* * *

"You sure you can only stay for the weekend?"

Will sighed. Charles was still trying to convince him to stay for the full two weeks at Netherfield, but Will just couldn't. If he didn't see Eliza at all, it would be torture. And if he did see Eliza, it would be even worse torture. To see her, talk to her, see her smile, and then leave her… well, he'd probably just end up declaring his love to her all over again.

"Yes, I'm sure. I can't take any more time off of work," Will said to Charles, whose shoulders fell. It was a lie, but Will didn't feel too badly about it. As long as he was sure Charles was on the right path to getting Jane back, he could leave with his peace of mind intact.

That Friday, they left early in the morning for New York. It was only 7 AM in the States by the time they got there, so they drove to the house and unpacked for a few hours. The house was pretty much the same; it seemed a bit quieter and more relaxing without Caroline there. She had been in France when they decided to return to New York, and they had conveniently forgotten to tell her that they were going.

Over the course of the afternoon, dozens of people stopped in to say hello and welcome back. They seemed more enthused to see Charles, naturally, so Will generally hung in the background and replenished the supply of cheese and crackers. As the day wore on, however, he was getting more and more agitated to go to the Bennets' house. Mr. Bennet had stopped by for a few minutes to say hello, but had really only stayed long enough to tell them that they were expecting Jane and Eliza for dinner and so if Will and Charles stopped by around five o'clock, the whole family should be there. He didn't mention Lydia, and Will naturally didn't bring it up. He wasn't even sure if Eliza had told her family that they had spent time together in England… from Mr. Bennet's greeting, it seemed not. Will's heart had fallen a little at this; perhaps his transformation had not made as much impact as he had thought. But then he chided himself; he was being selfish. Obviously her sister's health had been a much more urgent topic. _But still…_

The day was warm, and Will and Charles spent most of it entertaining people out on the back patio. Around four o'clock, Will and Charles were finally alone for a few minutes.

"Well?" Will asked. "Would you like to go to the Bennets?"

Charles suddenly looked nervous. "Sure," he said halfheartedly.

"What's wrong?"

Charles brushed some crumbs off the table, and then answered. "She must hate me."

Will sighed and picked up the cheese tray. "Not necessarily. You just have to apologize. A lot. Show her you've changed."

"You think that'll work?"

"God I hope so," Will muttered. He'd had a pit in his stomach ever since Mr. Bennet had mentioned Eliza would be there; apparently she was living on campus now, but he said she would be at home for dinner. Perhaps if he just got her by herself… told her about how he'd found Lydia… she'd light up and fall into his arms…

That was nonsense, he told himself as he put the tray into the dishwasher. She'd think him more arrogant than ever if he told her what he'd done for Lydia. She'd think he hadn't thought her father and John could do it, and so had taken it upon himself to find her poor sister. He shook his head fiercely and went upstairs to take a shower, but unfortunately, she wouldn't get out of his mind. That was it, he thought to himself as he stood in his towel and shaved; he had to see her. As soon as possible.

Around ten to five, Charles and Will met in the foyer. Will smiled encouragingly at Charles, who was looking like a complete wreck. They nodded silently, and then left the house.

It was a short enough walk to the Bennets, but Will had to hold to Charles' elbow, because he kept threatening to turn around and walk back. At exactly five o'clock, they were walking up the driveway of the white house and knocking on the door.

One of the younger girls, Cate, opened the door. She smiled shyly at them, and invited them in.

"Charles! What a surprise!" Mrs. Bennet and all the girls were sitting around the sun room; well, all but two: Eliza wasn't there, and neither, logically, was Lydia. Will groaned a little; if Eliza wasn't here, this visit was going to be hell. Already Mrs. Bennet was eyeing him coldly after warmly greeting Charles. Will stood slightly behind Charles, and nodded in response to her frosty hello. He then shifted his attention to Jane, who was standing now and smiling at Charles. She was a bit red in the cheeks, but otherwise exchanged niceties with him with great composure. But then Will noticed her eyes; they never left Charles, even after Mrs. Bennet had reclaimed his attention with her incessant blathering. They were even a bit glassy, as if she was holding back tears. Will was surprised, but pleasantly so. He reminded himself quite forcibly that he was not here for himself or for Eliza, but for Charles, to be a friend and to make up for what he had done.

"There you all are!"

Screw Charles. Will turned to find Eliza in the doorway, wearing a denim skirt and green top, her arms loaded down with grocery bags. Her eyes widened at the sight of Charles and Will, but after a second she smiled widely, and Will had to place a hand on a nearby armchair for support. He wanted to run forward and help her with her bags, but then Jane did it instead.

"Hello, Eliza," Charles said.

"Hi!" she replied. "What a surprise," she said, looking straight at Will. He couldn't help but smile in response; _God I love her_, he thought. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, if it was possible. She now had bangs that fell diagonally across her face, and her hair was down and curly.

"Will and I just came for the last bit of summer," Charles was saying. Eliza kept looking at Will, her smile becoming a bit more wistful.

"Well, you're just in time," she said. "How are you, Will?"

Will noticed her family's raised eyebrows at her cordial greeting, but ignored them for the time being.

"Fine, thanks," he replied.

"And how's your sister?" she asked next.

He smiled, thrilled that she'd asked. "She's well."

"Good. Tell her I said hi," Eliza said.

"She'll be delighted," Will said truthfully.

At that point, Eliza suddenly seemed to notice her mother and sisters' agape mouths, and she hastily mumbled something and left the room, Jane following. Charles awkwardly began another conversation, but Will kept gazing at the door. Yet again, he was in big trouble.

* * *

Eliza rushed to the kitchen and threw her grocery bags onto the counter. Her heart was pounding a million beats a minute. He was here! She had spoken to him… _Oh God, what did I say?_ She couldn't even remember… she had been too concerned with staring at him, at his green eyes and his beautiful smile. She hoped she hadn't made too much a fool of herself; when she had noticed her family's shock, she had turned and ran.

"Lizzie, is something wrong? What was that all about?" Jane asked, entering the kitchen and setting her bags down on the floor. Eliza tucked her hair behind her ears and started unpacking the food she'd bought for dinner.

"What do you mean?" she said distractedly. "You should go back in there, Charles is here!" she said suddenly, pushing Jane's shoulder.

But Jane stayed at the counter, twisting the tips of her fingers together.

"Yeah I know," she said with a shrug.

"Jane…" Eliza said, forgetting about Will for a moment.

"Well, I'll be glad when he leaves," Jane said strongly. "Because after this, we can just greet each other as acquaintances."

Eliza let out an incredulous laugh. "Sure," she said sarcastically.

"Oh come on, Lizzie, you can't think I'm in any danger now," Jane said, starting to help Lizzie unpack.

"Oh Jane… I think there's a very real danger of you making him more in love with you than ever," Eliza said. _I wish I could do the same_, she added silently.

Jane rolled her eyes, but blushed. "Well, Mom said she'll invite them over for dinner on Sunday… will you come?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

"Them?" Eliza asked weakly.

"Yeah, Will and Charles… and probably some neighbors," Jane said, and then her eyes narrowed.

"Well, I'll have to see how I do on my homework, but…" Eliza trailed off noncommittally.

But Jane was looking at Eliza with her hands on her hips.

"Speaking of Will…" she said. "What was _that_ about?" she asked, jerking her thumb toward the sun room.

"What was what about?" Eliza asked, turning away.

"You were… friendly to him. And you asked about his sister," Jane said. "I didn't even realize you knew his sister."

"Oh, well, actually… I spent some time with them in England," Eliza finally admitted.

Jane's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Yeah… Aunt Anne knew his housekeeper so we went to see his house, and he and his sister happened to be there," Eliza said.

"Wow…" Jane breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, with Lydia then and everything… I just sort of forgot," Eliza lied. But then Jane's amazement was too much for her, so she said, "Go back in there. Flirt with Charles. I'll be back in a minute."

Jane smiled and left, but Eliza never went back into the sun room. She just couldn't bring herself to face Will again in front of her entire family, to watch them be cold to him and ignore him, when they should all be thanking and hugging him. He and Charles left a half hour later, and dinner was spent discussing Charles and every single thing he had said.

Around eight o'clock, both Jane and Eliza were leaving the house and getting into their cars to go back to the city. Eliza was walking behind Jane until suddenly she ran right into her.

"Jane, what the-?" Eliza started to say, but then noticed why her sister had come to a sudden halt. At the end of the driveway, looking very nervous but smiling widely, was Charles. Eliza gave her sister a little push and then scurried toward her car, throwing Charles a wink as she climbed in.

"Hello," she heard Charles say to Jane. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Yes, I would," Jane said, and then with a fleeting smile to Eliza, they disappeared into the night.

Eliza was grinning as she started to drive away, but soon she started feeling jealous. She was happy for her sister, but she couldn't help but wish that it had been Will waiting for _her_ when she'd left the house. Not that she ever expected him to do such a thing; indeed, she was thinking more and more that if she _ever_ wanted anything to happen, _she_ would have to be the one to initiate it. But how could she? He couldn't possibly still feel anything for her… although the way he'd smiled at her that afternoon suggested otherwise.

By Sunday, Eliza was itching to see Will again. As she had expected, Jane and Charles were officially an item, causing unending joy in the Bennet household.

"It was so romantic," Jane was telling her as they stood outside that Sunday, surrounded by neighbors and friends. Admittedly, Eliza was only half-listening to Jane; Will was sitting all alone at a table by the pool, and all she really wanted to do was go and talk to him. He'd been here nearly an hour and still she hadn't spoken to him; instead she had just fumed with jealousy of anyone who did speak to him. But she felt that she owed it to her sister to listen to what had happened with Charles, who was now standing in the middle of a large group of women, being cooed and fawned over.

"He said he'd just been a huge idiot and that he's been miserable all year. He didn't even realize I'd moved to the city. And he's going to put in a request for a transfer so he can live here in New York!" Jane said with a grin. Eliza managed to smile, but was grateful when her sister was pulled away by their mother. Eliza took a deep breath and crossed to the patio to sit down next to Will.

"Hey," she said.

He visibly brightened and smiled. "Hi."

She chuckled and looked around. "Now that I don't live here anymore," she said, "I suddenly realize how boring most of these people are."

He laughed. "So you like living in the city, then?" he asked.

"Love it," she replied. She paused. "And you? How's London?"

"Very nice," he said.

"Well, I hope the weather stays nice for your stay here," she said.

"Oh, well actually I'm leaving tomorrow."

"So soon?" Eliza said, and then bit her lip. He gazed at her for a moment or two, and she blushed and looked down at her hands.

"Well, yes, I have to get back to work," he finally said. "Besides, I'd probably be by myself a lot," he said, jerking his head toward Jane and Charles.

She smiled knowingly at him. "Yeah, go figure."

It was his turn to blush.

"Will…"

"Eliza! Come over here!" her sisters were calling her over. Eliza groaned silently, but stood up. Then, unable to restrain herself, she quickly squeezed Will's hand before walking away.

* * *

_Dammit_.

Will's left hand was burning from where Eliza had touched it. She was now standing a few yards away with her sisters, but for a whole minute she had been sitting at his side, talking. He glanced around the yard; he could easily sneak out of here without being noticed. He had to get back to England… he had been right, this was torture. She was being nice, friendly even – at times, it almost felt like she was feeling the same as him. But there was no hope for it, and now he had to leave. He loved her, but he still didn't have the courage to tell her again. It was easier to just leave.

Pretending to go inside to use the bathroom, Will sneaked out the front door and walked back to Netherfield Beach. He spent the rest of the day packing, and then pretended to be asleep when Charles came home. By the next morning, he was in an airplane headed back to London. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but somehow, someday, he would get over her. He had to.

* * *

A/N: Sadness! Poor Will… and poor Eliza. And poor us! Two more chapters… but I am so excited to write the last two chapters!!! They're going to make us feel all fuzzy inside… which is always good.

So school is busy, as usual, but I should be able to get the last two chapters out in a decent amount of time. In the meantime, review!!! Last chapter didn't get a terrible amount, and I was sad. So _please_ review, especially now that we are coming to the end.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	28. With a Little Help From My Aunt

Chapter 28 - _With a Little Help From My Aunt

* * *

_

Eliza didn't hear from Jane for about week, which she took to be a good sign. She herself was quite miserable, and with no one to share her misery with, the week was quite horrendous. She had watched as Will snuck out of the party on Sunday, probably to get on a plane to England and out of her life forever. Why did he want to get away from her so badly? He must still hate me, she thought. But then why had he been so nice in Derby? And why had he saved Lydia, and _why_ had he brought Bingley back here? William Darcy was a mystery, and one which she no longer wanted to figure out.

A week or so later, and Eliza was starting to feel a little better. If it was meant to be, she kept reasoning with herself, it would work out. And if it didn't, then she would just have to settle for searching for someone who was even half as good… although she felt little hope that she would even be able to find that.

Finally, Jane called and asked Eliza to meet her for lunch. Charles had extended his lease of Netherfield, and was finagling a few loose ends when they met downtown near Eliza's apartment.

"I guess I don't need to ask how it's going, then," Eliza said after listening to Jane rapture on about Charles for five minutes.

Jane blushed. "It's wonderful, it really is." She sighed. "Oh, Lizzie, if I could only see you half as happy…"

Eliza scoffed in her throat. She could be fifty times as happy as Jane.

Jane seemed to take the hint and changed the subject. "Well, I'm glad Caroline's not here, anyway. She's such a…"

"Heinous bitch?" Eliza suggested helpfully. Jane laughed.

"Something like that," she said. "And I'm glad Darcy left."

"Don't say that," Eliza said quickly. Jane frowned and looked at her suspiciously.

"Why not?" Jane asked slowly.

Eliza paused, biting her lip. Should she tell her sister? She really should… just not everything.

"Jane… I was so blind. Will was… _is_… a good guy. He…" she trailed off, suddenly flushing.

"He what?" Jane pressed.

"He's the one who found Lydia," Eliza said quietly. "_He_ found her in LA, he got George arrested, he paid for the rehab center, everything."

Jane's mouth fell open. She stared at Eliza, clearly startled.

"Are you serious?" Jane said. "Are you sure?"

"Aunt Anne told me. He didn't want us to find out," Eliza said quickly, "so _don't_ tell anyone."

"Of course I won't but… why wouldn't he? Surely Mom and Dad would feel different about him if they knew."

Eliza chuckled incredulously. "I doubt it."

"Well, it obviously changed _your_ mind about him," Jane said. Eliza flushed again and took a large gulp of water.

"How did he find out about it, anyway?" Jane asked next.

"Well, we were still in Derby when we got your message. He was with us, and I couldn't not tell him. I mean, I was practically sobbing," Eliza explained.

"He was in your hotel room?" Jane asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just for a minute," Eliza said. But Jane still looked skeptical.

"Something's been up with you lately, Lizzie… especially since Darcy left. Did something… _happen_ between you two in England?" Jane asked tentatively.

Eliza sunk further back in her seat and avoided her sister's eyes. It was the very fact that _nothing_ had happened between them that was causing her so much distress.

"No," she answered truthfully. "Nothing at all."

Jane nodded, but didn't look convinced. She picked at her food for a moment, but then spent the rest of the meal going back and forth between being amazed at Darcy but also amazed at how wrong they had been about him.

"But why?" she said as they paid the check. "Why would he find Lydia? Just to get back at Wickham?"

"I doubt it," Eliza said. "I mean, if he'd just wanted to get back at George, he could've just had both of them arrested."

Jane nodded as they stood and started making their way out of the restaurant.

"That's true," she said. "Wow, I guess Charlie really has been right all along."

"Right about what?" Eliza asked.

"About Darcy actually being a really great guy." Jane paused. "Did you notice something different about him?"

"About Charles? Only that he's crazier in love than he used to be," Eliza said with a smile.

Jane giggled. "No, Darcy."

Eliza was quiet a moment as they walked along. "Yeah, I did notice a difference. A huge difference."

"Me too!" Jane said. "He was…"

"Warmer, kinder… hotter," Eliza said, and then blushed. Jane was laughing.

"_That's_ true!" she said, bending over with laughter. Eliza couldn't help it; she started to laugh, too.

They were still giggling as the elevator opened onto Eliza's floor; they stopped abruptly at the sight of a tall, stately woman standing sentry right outside Eliza's door.

"Lady Catherine?" Eliza said in disbelief. Lady Catherine turned at the sound of her voice; her glare made Eliza fall back a step. She was wearing a very elegant black pantsuit with a fur throw over her shoulder. How she wasn't covered in sweat was beyond Eliza's comprehension.

"Elizabeth," Lady Catherine said. "I must speak with you."

"Of course," Eliza said. "May I introduce my sister, Jane?" she went on, gesturing to Jane. Jane smiled and extended a hand.

"How lovely to meet you, Lady Catherine," Jane said. Lady Catherine scowled at Jane's outstretched hand and didn't take it. Jane's smile faltered and then she let her hand fall back to her side.

"I'll call you later, Lizzie," Jane said, and then made a dash for the elevator. Eliza pleaded with her eyes not for Jane to go, but Jane just shrugged apologetically as the doors closed on her. Eliza gathered up her strength and turned back to Lady Catherine.

"Won't you come in?" she said stiffly, and then put her key in the lock and opened the door. Lady Catherine barged in first, leaving Eliza to spit out little pieces of fur that had gotten flung into her mouth. Lady Catherine looked around the small apartment with a fierce glower on her face; Eliza hurried to turn on the lights and hide the pile of dishes in the sink. Catherine looked at the couch in obvious distaste, but after a few seconds pause, seemed to decide it wasn't too disgusting to sit on. Eliza placed herself carefully on the armchair and turned to Lady Catherine.

"Would you like something to drink?" Eliza asked politely, but Lady Catherine just continued to glare at her.

"No," was all Lady Catherine said.

"How are Collins and Charlotte?" Eliza asked next; she hadn't heard from Charlotte in some time, and was suddenly struck by the worry that perhaps Lady Catherine had come to tell her something dreadful had happened.

"They are very well. Collins is living in London now, and Charlotte is doing well in school."

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief. There was a very long pause.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink?" Eliza asked again.

"I did not come here to have you entertain me," Lady Catherine said disdainfully. She paused, and stroked her fur throw. "You must _know_ why I'm here, Elizabeth."

"No, actually, I have no idea," Eliza said honestly.

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb with me, young lady. I know you started this insidious rumor."

Eliza folded her arms. "What rumor?"

Lady Catherine scoffed. "What rumor?" she repeated. "You know very well what I speak of, Elizabeth."

"Lady Catherine, I really don't know what you're talking about," Eliza said, starting to feel frustrated.

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. "Elizabeth, I am not a woman to be trifled with," she said loudly.

"I know that, Lady Catherine," Eliza said, with an ever so slight bit of sarcasm.

"I don't like your tone!" Lady Catherine said, drawing herself up. "I have always been known as a frank woman, Elizabeth, and I must be one now. A rumor has reached me that you, Elizabeth Bennet, of Long Island, New York, were soon to be engaged to _my_ nephew, William Darcy. I know this is impossible. I wouldn't insult my nephew by believing this could be true, so I set out to come here right away."

Eliza took a moment to quell the surge of anger in her stomach, and then spoke calmly.

"If you thought it couldn't be true, then why would you come so far?" Eliza asked.

"To make sure that this rumor is completely stamped out and refuted."

Eliza dug her nails into the chair. "Well, wouldn't your coming here seem to be a confirmation of it, if that rumor does exist?"

Lady Catherine gave a cry. "If?! Are you telling me you don't even know about this? That you yourself did not begin this rumor in the first place?"

Eliza pretended to think for a moment, and then said, "Yes, that _is_ what I'm saying."

Lady Catherine fidgeted in agitation. "Can you also say that there is no truth in it?"

"You've said it's impossible," Eliza replied with a shrug.

"It _should_ be… it _must_ be! You may have seduced him, but William has responsibilities to his family. What say you to that?"

"Well, if I did seduce him, I would hardly admit it to you," Eliza said, biting back a vengeful smile.

Lady Catherine spluttered. "_I_ am the closest relative William has in this world! I must know all that goes on in his life."

"But you _don't_ have to know all that goes on in _mine_. In fact, I'd rather you didn't."

Lady Catherine's face was slowly turning red. It gave Eliza a certain satisfaction.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," Lady Catherine went on with a smug smile. "William is already engaged. What do you say to that?"

Eliza folded her arms again and moved back in her chair.

"Well, if it's true, then I really don't see why you're here," she said.

Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow. "His engagement is… peculiar. But he and Anne are destined for each other, I have planned it ever since he was a young boy. Do you have no respect for the wishes of William's family? Don't you hear that he is engaged?"

"Yeah, and I've heard it before. But unless there's a ring on her finger, I'm certainly not going to let that get between us."

"Ha!" Lady Catherine burst out. "So you do expect him to propose to you?"

"I expect nothing from him," Eliza said quietly.

Lady Catherine considered her for a moment. "And will you promise me to never _become_ engaged to him?"

"I won't make any promise of the kind."

Lady Catherine glared at her again. "You do realize that if you were to marry my nephew, none of his relatives would speak to you or him ever again. You and your family would be a disgrace. Everything about you is lacking, from your looks to your education."

Eliza was nearly blinded with rage by now, but she tried to keep her cool. "You can have nothing else to say now. You've insulted me in every way possible, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she said, standing and pointing to the door. Lady Catherine stood but didn't move.

"So you're determined to have him?"

"I never said that. I _am_, however, determined to do anything that will insure my own happiness, without a single thought to you or anyone else so completely unconnected to me. If Will did want to marry me, I would say yes if that's what I thought would make myself and him the happiest."

"So you _would_ say yes?" Lady Catherine baited her.

Eliza paused. "I wouldn't _not_ say yes."

Lady Catherine drew herself up to her fullest height and puffed out her chest in indignation.

"How dare you Elizabeth! I knew you were obstinate, but I expected to find you a little more reasonable."

"Sorry to disappoint," Eliza growled, and then crossed over to the door and flung it open. Lady Catherine seemed to take the hint, and throwing her fur over her shoulder, she stalked out of the room.

Eliza slammed the door shut and then collapsed onto the couch. Lady Catherine's visit had been truly upsetting. Jane called about an hour later, but Eliza didn't answer. To explain the entire meaning of Lady Catherine's visit would take far too long – and be far too painful.

* * *

Will dragged himself through the next week. At first, he dreamt of Eliza every time he went to sleep, but after forcing himself to stay awake a few nights in a row, he was now sleeping soundly. Work consumed his days and evenings, and so after nearly two weeks, he had nearly forgotten her… by becoming a walking zombie.

One Friday afternoon, Will was sitting calmly in his office, going through files, when a loud burst of commotion outside his door jerked him out of his reverie. Seconds later, none other than his aunt was barging through the door. She swept over to his desk, but did not sit down.

"Aunt Catherine… what a nice surprise," Will lied. Aunt Catherine looked harried; her hair was out of place and she seemed to have forgotten to put on her last layer of makeup. She threw up her arms and gave a huff of indignation.

"You will not believe where I have just come from," she began. He sat down in his chair and indicated that she should do the same.

"No, I don't think I will," he said, still amazed at her ragged appearance.

"I had to come straight here. I'm sure you will be as mortified as I am," she went on.

"Go on, Aunt Catherine," he coaxed her.

"Well, I was at the Tinsleys' dinner party the other night, when I felt as if they were all whispering about me. I pulled Linny aside and demanded she tell me what was going on. And do you know what she told me?"

Will restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "No, Aunt Catherine."

"She told me that it is being widely told that _you_ were about to propose to that… that… _chit_, Elizabeth Bennet."

Will's stomach dropped. He twitched in his seat, but looked properly surprised.

"You don't say," he said.

"Can you believe such nonsense? Well, _I_ couldn't, but I resolved on going straight to New York to pay a little visit to Miss Bennet."

"No, Aunt, you didn't," Will said pleadingly.

"I most certainly did!"

Will's heart fell. His aunt had gone to see Eliza over a rumor that he was in love with her! Could his life get any worse?

"I told her that I wanted this rumor completely refuted. I told her that you were engaged to Anne, and that you could never marry her anyway," Aunt Catherine went on. Will sunk his face into his hands. God, how Eliza must hate him now.

"I demanded that she promise me that she would never get engaged to you, and do you know what she said? She said no!" Aunt Catherine exclaimed.

Will's head jerked up. "Wait, no that she would never be engaged to me?"

"No, she said no that she would never promise to _not_ be engaged to you!"

Will fell back in his seat, beginning to smile. Was it possible?

"So I asked her if she was determined to have you, and she said that she would marry you if she thought that's what would make her happiest. Can you believe it!? The absolute stubbornness of that girl. She actually thinks that you might be in love with her!"

Will was grinning by now; he was beginning to feel restless.

"And then, to top it all off, I demanded to know if she would say yes if you proposed, and can you believe it, she said that she wouldn't _not_ say yes," Aunt Catherine ranted on. "Can you imagine? A girl like _that_ – a Darcy? It's preposterous!"

Will had sprung up now. He wasn't listening to his aunt anymore; he'd heard all that he'd needed to hear. If Eliza was still completely dead set against him, she would have told his aunt flat out. But she hadn't! She'd said that she _wouldn't_ refuse him! There had to be some hope in that. There had to be!

"Well, thank you, Aunt Catherine, thank you very much," Will enthused, coming around his desk and hustling his aunt out the door. He said goodbye over her protests, and then shut the door. Telling his secretary to book him a flight to New York as soon as possible, he called Charles and informed him that he would be returning within the day. Charles was surprised but pleased, and minutes later, Will was headed to home to pack, his heart racing.

Will Darcy had seen a chance, and he was going to take it.

* * *

A/N: Hooray! Our knight in shining armor is returning!

Sorry the chapter's not a bit longer, but I didn't want to add too much extra stuff or it would just get silly.

One chapter left. I'm so excited! I cannot believe I started this story a year and a half ago. It's gone by so quickly!

Anyway, _please_ review! If we could get to 500 by the time this story is over, I would be THRILLED. I love you all!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	29. We Can Work It Out

First off, I am SO sorry for the wait! Second off, this is NOT the last chapter! OK, go read!

* * *

**Chapter 29** – We _Can_ Work It Out

"Will, I'm so glad you're here, I really am, but I have plans…"

"With Jane. I know. It's fine, go."

Will had been back in the States for barely an hour and already Charles was ditching him. He didn't mind much; he needed to take some time anyway to figure out how exactly he would go about talking to Eliza. He was tempted to ask Charles to find out where she lived so that he could run over there right now… but no. He was too jet-lagged… or so he told himself.

"Will, what's up? You're acting weird," Charles said to him.

"What do you mean?"

Charles shrugged. "Why are you here in the first place?"

Will sighed, sinking into the couch. He and Charles were in the living room, which was flooded with light near the end of the day. Charles narrowed his eyes and sat down across from him on the coffee table.

"If this is about Jane…" Charles started, but Will cut him off.

"No, it is definitely not about Jane." He paused. To hell with it. "It's about Eliza."

"Eliza?" Charles repeated, and Will cringed at his shock.

"Yes, Eliza," he said.

Charles was silent a moment, and then gasped. "You're in love with Eliza!"

Will ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Yes."

"Well, this is fantastic! Come on, I'll go ask Jane where she lives, and…"

"No, Charles."

"No?"

"I need some… time." Will looked at his friend with pleading eyes. Charles seemed to take the hint.

"Alright." Then he smiled. "Would you be terribly angry if I told Jane?"

Will growled and rolled his eyes. "As long as she doesn't tell Eliza," he said dejectedly.

"I'll make sure of it!" Charles said, and then jumped up and bounced out of the room. Will sunk his face into his hands; he had to admit, telling Charles was a relief. But it also made him feel vulnerable… not to mention exhausted. Blocking all thoughts for the time being, he fell back onto the couch and went to sleep.

* * *

"Lizzie, I have to ask… what _was_ that whole Catherine thing about?"

Eliza sighed and turned away from Jane. She started scrubbing her dishes with a little more force than necessary; Jane had just dropped by after a date with Charles, and even though she was asking about Lady Catherine with concern, Eliza could tell her mind was still half with Charles.

"Was it about Will Darcy?" Jane suddenly asked.

Eliza dropped a dish, startled. Soapy water splashed up and into her eyes; she cried out and staggered back. Jane caught her and led her to a chair, pulling off her gloves. Eliza whimpered and started rubbing her eyes furiously, trying to get them to tear to get rid of the burning soap.

"Why would you think that?" Eliza said, her eyes clamped shut.

"I'm sorry, I just… you seemed to act so oddly around him, and then his aunt shows up?" Jane said.

"I acted oddly? Really?" Eliza said, squinting her eyes. Jane was looking at her shrewdly as she nodded.

"Dammit," Eliza said. She paused as her eyes finally started to tear up. "Alright, fine… it _was_ about Will."

"It was?"

"Yeah… she thought we were engaged," Eliza said, hoping that Jane wouldn't laugh.

She didn't. "She did? So why did she come to see you?"

"She thinks I don't deserve him. I'm not good enough for him," Eliza said, suddenly thankful that her eyes were already streaming tears, because otherwise her crying would have looked questionable.

Now Jane laughed. "How ridiculous."

"Yeah," Eliza said halfheartedly. "It doesn't matter anyway… he hates me."

"You sure about that?"

Eliza opened her eyes to slits and looked at her sister. Jane had a knowing look on her face.

"Yes," Eliza said.

"And do you hate him?" was Jane's next question.

"I…" Eliza threw her arms up in frustration. "No. I don't. At all."

Jane smiled and placed her hands on Eliza's upper arms. "And honestly, Lizzie, I don't think he hates you either."

"How do you know?" Eliza asked quickly. But Jane just shook her head.

"Come on, let's go put some eye drops in your eyes," she said, helping Lizzie stand. As they walked to the bathroom, she turned to Eliza and said, "You want to go home with me for dinner tomorrow?"

* * *

"Will, come on, wake up. Will!"

Will drowsily opened his eyes to find the figure of Charles hovering over him. Giving a small jump of shock, Will sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Charles, God, you scared me," Will said.

"Sorry, mate. Hey listen, you want to come over to the Bennets with me tomorrow?" Charles asked hopefully.

Will eyed him suspiciously. "Why?" He paused. "Oh God, you told Jane, didn't you?"

Charles shrugged apologetically. "I did. But I told her not, under any circumstances, to tell Eliza. But come on… she said Eliza would be at home tomorrow for dinner, I thought maybe we could go over and visit afterwards."

Will's stomach twisted. But then Aunt Catherine's words rang throughout his head: _and can you believe it, she said she wouldn't _not _say yes!_ He grinned and turned to Charles.

"Alright. I'll go."

Charles grinned as well and clapped Will on the shoulder. He strode out of the room, probably to call Jane. Will, however, could not stop grinning. Yes, he thought, this was it.

Will spent the majority of Sunday pacing the house. How to get Eliza alone? What to say? Perhaps she would say something first… but what if she didn't? He would have to say something first… unless it felt as if she would. Finally, around eight o'clock, he told Charles he would go perfectly insane if they didn't leave right now. Charles smiled happily and obliged; they left the house and started out toward the Bennets.

Will found that he still could not stop grinning.

* * *

"How's your eye, Lizzie?"

Eliza glared a little at her sister. They were back at home in their old upstairs bathroom, and Eliza was just noticing that her eye still looked a little red.

"Fine… you never apologized though, you know," Eliza said.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Jane said, laughing.

"You made me drop the dish!" Eliza exclaimed, playfully hitting her sister in the arm.

"Nonsense," Jane said.

Eliza laughed and examined herself in the mirror. She wore jeans and a black tank top; nothing exciting. She had spent a good deal of time straightening her hair that day, and she was happy to note that it had not erupted into frizz yet. She brushed her bangs over her reddened eye and smiled.

Just then she heard the front door open. Cocking her head, she pulled the bathroom door open a little further.

"How nice to see you again, Mrs. Bennet," she heard a deep, slow voice say. Eliza jumped several inches in excitement.

"Will!" she practically yelled, and without waiting for Jane, she rushed to the stairs. Hurrying down them, she halted halfway. Standing right there in her foyer were Will and Charles. Will was wearing pressed chinos and a blue shirt; he turned immediately upon hearing Eliza's footsteps. She grinned widely in happiness.

"Will!" She then noticed her mother right below her. Mrs. Bennet stared at Will coldly before turning around and walking away.

"You're back," Eliza said, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She composed herself and then made her way to the bottom of the stairs. Will smiled in return and nodded.

"Yes, I am," he said. Eliza then felt her sister's hands on her shoulders as Jane leaned over her to peck Charles on the cheek.

"Hello, Will," Jane said warmly. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," Will said softly; Eliza's smile faltered as he fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. She suddenly became very aware of how foolish she was being. Her heart rate returned to normal as she diverted her gaze back to Charles.

"Will and I were just wondering if you two would like to go for a walk on the beach," Charles said. "It's so nice outside still."

"We'd love to!" Jane said quickly; Eliza turned to her sister with a raised eyebrow. Somehow the whole thing seemed a bit… choreographed. But Jane just smiled and pushed Eliza toward the door.

On the way to the beach, Jane and Charles commanded most of the conversation; Jane asked Will about his flight and Charles asked Eliza about her apartment, but mostly they stood in between Will and Eliza and talked loudly about what they had done the day before. Eliza was suddenly wishing she could just turn back; clearly Will had not come here for her. The look on his face had said everything – she had hoped that perhaps his aunt had told him what she'd said, and that maybe he'd come here to talk to her, or to at least apologize for the complete rudeness that his aunt had shown her. She mustn't get her hopes up… besides, they were with Jane and Charles – what could happen?

The beach was cool and a bit windy. It felt refreshing after being in the house for the past few hours. Eliza shivered a bit, staring at the sand. She wasn't listening in the least to what Jane and Charles were saying. Their voices were soft murmurings in the background as she forced herself not to stare at Will.

"Would you like to keep going?"

Will's voice jerked her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find that they were perfectly alone; Jane and Charles were nowhere in sight. She looked around wildly.

"Where'd Jane go?" she asked.

Will chuckled. "They decided to sit down back there," he said, jerking his head toward a dock a few yards back. Squinting, Eliza saw the outlines of two people sitting by the water.

"Wow… I completely blanked out," she said.

"Yeah, I could tell," Will said with a smile. She returned the smile in embarrassment.

"So, would you like to continue?" he asked again.

"Oh! Yes, I would love to," she said. He nodded and they continued walking on. Eliza kept glancing sideways at him… she had to say something. She just had to.

"Is something wrong with your eye?" Will suddenly asked.

"What?" she asked in surprise.

"I noticed it was a little red back at the house," he said.

"Oh… no, it's fine, I just got a little soap in it yesterday," she said. He stopped and turned to her.

"Are you sure? That can be pretty harmful," he said, sweeping her bangs off her face and placing his fingers gently around her eye. His touch was so intoxicating that she had to turn her head away.

"It's fine, really," she said, continuing to walk. His shoulders fell but he followed alongside her, his hands in his pockets. They walked in silence for several minutes; Jane and Charles were no longer visible. Eliza continued to glance at him every few seconds – he, however, kept his head down, apparently lost in thought. They were nearing a dock when Eliza couldn't take it anymore. What if she never saw him again?

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," she said, halting and placing a hand on his arm.

He looked at her, clearly startled. "What? Is something wrong? Do you feel alright?"

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "No, actually, I don't. Will, I can't take one more step without thanking you."

His eyes widened. "Thanking me?" he repeated.

"Yes… for what you did for Lydia. Ever since I've known about it, I've wanted to thank you. And trust me, if the rest of my family knew about it, I would not be the only person thanking you."

He looked uncomfortable, and shifted his weight. "I'm sorry, Eliza, if I've distressed you… you weren't supposed to find out. I didn't realize your aunt and uncle were so little to be trusted."

She again placed her hand on his arm. "No, don't blame my aunt. Lydia, actually, let it slip first, and then I pleaded and begged my aunt to tell me the whole story." She paused; she was clearly upsetting him, and she felt awful. "Just believe me when I say that if the rest of my family knew, they wouldn't treat you so… well, you know."

He gave an incredulous laugh and looked up at her. "Eliza, please, if you're going to thank me, do it for yourself only. Your family owes me nothing. Whatever I did, I did it for you."

Her heart skipped a beat. Silence fell between them, and Eliza turned and started walking again. He followed, but just as she was climbing the steps up the dock, she felt her hand grasped by one much larger and warmer than hers. She turned instantly to find Will staring longingly up at her. He took both of her hands into his.

"Eliza, please…" his voice broke.

"Yes?" she said quickly.

He stepped up so that he was barely an inch below her. "Eliza, I have not stopped loving you for a moment for over a year. If anything, I love you even more ever since New Year's. I can't get your voice out of my head… and I don't want to. I want to be with you forever…" He paused, looking down at her hands. "But one word from you, and I will never speak of this again."

Eliza was breathless by the time he had stopped speaking. She stared down at him for several moments, a smile playing at her lips. How to say all that she wanted to tell him? How to tell him that she now loved him so much she had cried herself to sleep when she thought she'd never see him again? For once in her life, Eliza was speechless. In the end, there was nothing she could say. She would just have to show him.

She gently extracted her hands from his and placed them on either side of his face. She gently rubbed one thumb along his cheek and the other on his lower lip.

"Eliza…" he whispered. She grinned.

"It's _Lizzie_," she said. And with that, she lowered her lips to his. He didn't take long to respond; instantly, one arm was wrapped around her waist, while the other hand buried itself in her hair. His lips were strong but warm, and he tasted like peppermint. She deepened the kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist; he stepped off the stairs and lowered her gently onto the sand. His lips moved slowly but fiercely against hers; she soon lost her wits completely and smiled into the kiss.

* * *

How long they stayed on the beach, neither of them could tell. It wasn't until the cold ocean water rose to nip at Will's feet did he end the kiss. While Eliza made to stand, he buried himself in her neck; he couldn't stay off of her. He still couldn't believe that the night had gone the way it did – the moment she had placed her hands on his face, he had lost all sense. She laughed into his ear and threw her arms around his neck.

"Will," she murmured. He groaned and kept kissing her jaw line. She laughed again, but placed her hands under his chin and brought his face up to hers.

"I don't think I said it before, so just so we're clear… I love you," she said, smiling. Will grinned and kissed her firmly on the lips. He had never felt so elated in his life. He wanted to stay on that beach forever, but Eliza was soon looking at her watch.

"Will!" she exclaimed. "It's eleven o'clock!"

He laughed, unable to contain himself.

"I can't believe my mother hasn't sent out a search party by now," Eliza said with a smile. She took his hand and began leading him back towards the road; he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. It wasn't until they were nearly back at the Bennet's house that he noticed how serious Eliza's face had become. _Oh God, she's not having second thoughts already, is she?_

"Is something wrong?" he asked, letting her hand go. She smiled slowly and turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

"No, I just… I mean, what now?" she said. He frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, you're in London and I'm here… and my family is so… and I have school…" she mumbled into his shirt, as her arms wrapped him tighter. His euphoria dimmed a little; he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"We'll think of something," he said. She looked up and rested her chin on his collarbone.

"You promise?" she asked.

"For you, Lizzie, anything."

* * *

A/N: Egats! I really do apologize for the ridiculously long wait. School just became so overwhelming, and… well, I'm sure you all can relate.

So in some ways this is the last chapter, but I _am_ going to do an epilogue (that hopefully will not take a month to complete). I know this chapter is a little short but I didn't want to ruin the happy-happy-joy-joy-ness of this chapter with all the mandatory well-what-comes-after stuff. So stay tuned!

Please review! Especially if you've been reading but have never reviewed, it's always nice to hear from everyone once the story is over. Please?

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	30. Epilogue

_Epilogue

* * *

_

Lizzie smiled but was still worried. She couldn't very well just burst into the house at 11:00 at night and announce that she was in love with William Darcy. And besides, where would that leave her? She and Will lived on two completely different sides of the Atlantic. She sighed and again buried her face in his warm, perfectly toned chest. She wished she had thought this through earlier. But considering she had thought she would never even see Will again… she groaned a little into his chest.

She felt a light pressure as Will kissed her forehead. He sighed and pulled back from her so that he could look her in the eyes.

"Alright, what about this," he said. "It's up to you, but we have two choices. Either I leave the family firm in London and work at our branch here and you stay at school. Or you finish this semester at NYU and then come live with me in London and continue your studies there."

She grinned, her happiness swelling again. "You thought of something awful quickly."

He looked down at her hands. "Well, I admit I had put some thought into it earlier."

She looked at him a little sadly. She still felt a pang of guilt; she marveled at how he could still love her after all that she'd said and done.

"Will… I should have said this a long time ago, but I am so sorry for all those things I said on New Year's Eve," she said softly.

Will shook his head, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "I deserved it."

"But that's just it, you didn't!" Eliza cried. "You didn't deserve it at all!"

"Most of it I did," he said quietly. But then he smiled and kissed her. "Besides, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"No, I guess not," she replied, smiling herself. Then she bit her lip and looked at him mischievously.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, it's just… you always seemed so serious. How could you have fallen in love with me in the first place? And when?"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I was so far into it before I even realized I had begun, I have no idea the exact time."

"But I was always at least a little impolite to you. Or did you like me for my impertinence?" she said jokingly, laughing.

"I call it your vivacity."

"That's being kind," she said. Then she raised an eyebrow. "How come you came back? I mean, before when you were here… well, you left so quickly, I thought you didn't care anymore."

"I left because I cared too _much_," he said. She blushed and looked down. "But then my aunt paid me a little visit."

Lizzie let out a short laugh. "Ah, dear Lady Catherine," she said sarcastically.

"Yes… she told me what you said. And quite contrary to her intention of separating us, it gave me hope like I had never let myself have before."

Eliza stood on her tip toes to kiss him. "She said she'd never talk to us again if you went out with me… do you think she meant it?" she asked hopefully.

"Probably," Will replied. "But we'll see."

Eliza took a deep breath and then clasped his hand and started walking back to her parents' house. Stopping next to her car parked outside by the curb, she turned once again to Will. He leaned her against the car door and kissed her for the millionth time. When he pulled away, she smiled up at him.

"I want to go to London with you," she whispered. He grinned and kissed her yet again.

"Georgia will be delighted," he said, chuckling.

They kissed again and then parted ways.

* * *

Will woke early the next morning, his stomach still doing cartwheels. As he showered and dressed, he found he was still in shock at how last night had gone. The fact that Eliza – _Lizzie_ – really was in love with him… he couldn't imagine being happier.

Around nine, he was standing in front of the Bennet's house, his palms sweating ever so slightly. He knew it was imperative that he make a good impression on Mr. Bennet. Lizzie loved and looked up to him so much; Will was desperate to get on his good side. With a deep breath, he strode up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

Mr. Bennet himself answered, fully dressed but looking a little weary. His eyes widened at the sight of Will, but when Will asked to speak with him, he graciously led Will into his study.

"If I'm disturbing your work…" Will started to say, but Mr. Bennet waved a hand and sat down at his desk chair.

"Not at all," Mr. Bennet said, gesturing toward the green armchair by the window. Will gingerly sat down.

"Well, Mr. Bennet, I'm not entirely how to go about this…" Will began, but then looked up to see Mr. Bennet eyeing him shrewdly.

"Then let me help you. It has something to do with Lizzie, doesn't it?" Mr. Bennet said with a wry smile.

Will's mouth fell open a little.

"I saw how you were looking at her the other day," Mr. Bennet said. "It didn't take a great leap of the imagination."

Will blushed and looked down at his hands. "Well, then, I guess I don't need to tell you, sir, that I'm in love with your daughter. However, I did not know until last night that she felt the same way."

He looked up quickly and was slightly crushed to see a look of surprise on Mr. Bennet's face.

"Anyway," Will went on hastily, feeling his face burn, "we talked about it, and we… well, Eliza… decided that she would like to move to London with me."

Mr. Bennet sighed and clasped his hands together on his lap.

"I just wanted to assure you, sir, that Eliza will be very safe in London, and that she will continue with her studies there," Will said, but then paused. "However, if you don't wish her to go…"

Mr. Bennet held up a hand. "Lizzie's an adult now, much as wish she weren't. She can make her own decisions," he said. He fixed Will with a beady look. "You can provide for her? Make sure she's safe?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you love her? She won't end up back here in tears?"

Will looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Never, sir. I love her more than anything."

Mr. Bennet leaned back and took off his glasses. "Call me Tom," he said.

Will grinned gratefully and nodded. Then noticing a certain book on Mr. Bennet's desk, they fell into an easy conversation for nearly an hour. Close to ten, they heard Mrs. Bennet coming home, and Mr. Bennet snuck Will out the back. He told Will he would call Lizzie right now, so Will went back to Netherfield, took Charles' car, and went into the city. He had gone nearly twelve hours without seeing Lizzie, and he couldn't hold out much longer.

* * *

At ten in the morning, Eliza woke to her loudly ringing phone. Knocking over books and hair brushes, she reached for it on the nightstand.

"Hello?" she croaked.

"Good morning, Lizzie." It was her father.

"Dad!" she said, sitting up straight. From the sound of his voice, Will had spoken with him. "What's up?" she asked tentatively.

"Well, I just had a visit from William Darcy."

Eliza bit her lip. She couldn't quite make out the tone in her father's voice: was it sadness? Disappointment? Relief?

"Oh. Listen Dad, we would've talked to you last night, but it was really late, and we didn't…" she trailed off.

"He's really a very nice young man," her father said. "He assured me he only wants the best for you, and I believe him." He paused. "Oh, Lizzie… I just want to make sure that _you_ want him to want the best for you."

"Dad, trust me, I do." She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. "I know it's not… expected, but I love him, Dad. I really do."

There was a long pause in which Eliza's stomach twisted into several knots.

"Well, I guess London isn't that long of a plane ride away," her father finally said. Eliza let out her breath in a sigh of relief.

"It isn't! And I'll come home and visit, too, all the time," she said quickly.

"You'd better," he said. "Oh Lizzie, I couldn't have given you up to anyone less worthy."

"Thank you, Dad."

Three months later, after dozens of hugs and innumerable tears, Eliza was on a plane, headed toward Will, London, and her future.

* * *

A/N: To be continued… possibly! Let's be honest, I'm not ready to give these characters up. I might do a sequel… it may not be anytime soon, though. I've decided to continue The Reluctant Cinderella for now, but if you guys think it would be worth it, I will definitely start crafting a sequel.

So, for the last time, PLEASE review! Tell me how you liked the story and if you'd like to see a sequel. Please please please!

Farewell, my friends. This truly has been one of the most fun and rewarding stories I've ever written. Thanks to all of you.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


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